Chapter Four
Harry peeled his eyes open, his blurry vision staring straight up at the canopy of his bed. Slowly, his thoughts started to return from the haze of sleep, images of last night's nightmare still lingering in his mind. It had been a replay of a jet of green light coming towards him over and over. He'd probably died in his dream at least twenty times before he'd finally woken up. Bringing a hand up to rub at his face, he noticed that he was covered in sweat again, his skin slick and his clothing and bedding damp with it. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he tried to breathe away the nausea that was creeping in on him, but Harry eventually rolled out of bed and stumbled into the dorm bathrooms.
Despite not having his glasses, he found his way there with only a little trouble and dropped down in front of one of the toilets. His whole body wracked with violent heaves as the remainder of last night's dinner hit the water, his fingers gripping at the toilet so hard his hands were shaking. When it was finally over, he spat up the last bits of the foul tasting bile and dropped back onto his butt, panting heavily. Wiping at his mouth, Harry slowly laid down on the bathroom floor, resting his head against the cool tile and closing his eyes. He didn't know why he didn't just get up and move back to his bed, but he decided the floor felt nice just then.
It seemed only a few minutes later when he was awakened by the sounds of loud voices, and Harry just lay there for a minute, listening to them get closer. The rest of the house must have woken up by now and with the realization they were going to be needing the bathrooms soon, Harry slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. Leaning over and flushing the toilet, he then hauled himself up and walked back out into the dorm room.
He saw that the rest of his dorm mates were now up and getting changed, talking energetically to one another. Going over to his trunk, Harry pulled out his uniform and started to do the same.
"Jeez, Harry, what does the other guy look like?" Dean asked him after he pulled off his shirt, causing Harry to jolt out of his stupor.
"Huh?" he asked in confusion.
"Your bruises, mate," Dean clarified, indicating to Harry's torso with his eyes. "It looks like you got into a fight."
Harry noticed that Dean's words had caught Ron's attention, who was now looking over at him with a frown. Confused, Harry looked down to see what Dean was on about and was surprised to find a large bruise on the side of his torso and several ones of varying sizes littering his arms. Using his other hand, he gently prodded a couple of them and winched at how tender they felt. How had he not noticed those? Better yet, how had he gotten them in the first place?
"Must have been from practice," Harry replied with a shrug, though he couldn't recall taking any hits from bludgers or getting into any collisions. He quickly buttoned up his shirt to hide the bruises, not comfortable with the whole dorm gawking at him. Fortunately, the conversation turned onto Quidditch after that.
"I can't wait for the first game, we're going to cream the Slytherins," Ron declared over-confidently, punching his fist into his hand.
"Don't get too cocky, Ron," Harry said while putting his tie on. "Otherwise, your giant head might keep you from getting your broom off the ground."
"I do not have a giant head!" Ron huffed.
"Dean? Dean? Where are you? I can't see you over Ron's giant head!" Harry pretended to look around Ron. "Oh, bugger, he's lost forever."
"You're not as funny as you think you are, Harry," Ron said, chucking one of his pillows at Harry's head. Harry only just managed to duck away before it hit him, and there was a muffled grunt as it smacked Seamus in the face instead. Harry and Ron both paused for a second and met each other's eyes before bursting out into laughter.
"Hey, watch where you're throwing things!" Seamus said, though he was also laughing as he tossed the pillow back to Ron.
"Sorry, Seamus," Ron replied as he put his pillow back in its proper place. Harry, who was suddenly feeling lightheaded from all the laughter, had to grab onto the bed post to keep himself steady. He suddenly felt really hot and he had to resist the urge to strip immediately out of his clothes. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he even felt a drop roll down his neck and chest.
"Earth to Harry," Ron's voice cut through his dizzy spell and Harry looked up, eyebrows furrowed. How long had Ron been trying to get his attention?
"What's that, Ron?" Harry asked, wincing at the slight quiver in his voice despite his efforts at keeping it as normal as possible.
"I asked if you're ready to go meet Hermione and head down to breakfast," Ron explained, though he was looking at Harry a bit oddly now. Ron often seemed thick, but Harry knew that he was incredibly perceptive and he always knew when something was off, especially with Harry.
Harry, whose stomach was rolling at the mere mention of food, thought he'd rather die than have to sit through another meal. Most of the time it was just him staring at his food, trying not to vomit from the smell of it and Hermione nagging him about not eating enough. Meal times had once been something he used to look forward to, but now they were just a hassle.
"You go on ahead, Ron," Harry said. "I'm not very hungry this morning."
"How can you not be hungry?" Ron questioned with the slightest rise of pitch in his voice. "You barely touched your tea last night, same for lunch and breakfast. You're not going on a diet, are you?"
Harry couldn't help but snort at that. Leave it Ron to think a few skipped meals instantly equaled going on a diet. "Well, you know me, always watching my figure."
"Yeah, well, at this rate you won't have a figure, you'll just be a stick," Ron said, eyeing Harry up and down. "Actually, never mind, you're already there."
"Like you can talk! You're like the very definition of a bean pole," Harry retorted as he slipped his robes on.
"If by 'bean pole' you mean 'lean and athletic', then you're absolutely right, Harry," Ron said but Harry just choked back a laugh. While Ron had filled out a little more than Harry had, he was still tall and lanky.
"Ah, right, yeah. I'm always mixing those words up."
Harry gathered up his satchel and his course books once he was finished getting ready. As they walked out into the common room, however, Ron turned serious again. "Honestly, though, has everything been...okay, lately?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, though he knew exactly what Ron meant and it made his heart twang in his chest. He really did not want to have this conversation right now. If Harry told Ron anything, Ron would tell Hermione and then they'd bout hound him mercilessly until he finally caved and went to Madam Pomfrey. The mere thought of that made him cringe.
"You just don't seem yourself," Ron said as they both walked over to one of the couches and sat down while they waited for Hermione. "I can tell when you're putting up a front to hide something, you know."
They'd both known each other for such a long time, and had been through so much together, that Harry figured there was actually very little he could hide from the red-head. Ron just knew his mannerisms, his tells, and his expressions far too well. He was probably able to read Harry even better than Hermione was. It was both a rare blessing, and an annoying curse to have a friend like that.
"It's nothing, really," Harry said, twisting the sleeve of his robe into a knot absently. "Just been a bit under the weather."
He figured if he told part of the truth, Ron might drop it and they could move on with their lives. No worry, no fuss.
"Is it still that flu?" Ron asked, raising a brow. "I thought Madam Pomfrey gave you something for that."
"She did, but I think it's just a really nasty one. I'm sure it'll pass in a couple more days."
"I s'pose," Ron said, though he looked dubious at best. "Just, you know, take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yes, mum," Harry replied teasingly but there was an underlying tone of assurance as well.
"Besides, can you imagine the headlines? 'Savior of the wizarding world snuffed out by flu'?" Ron added, cracking a grin at him. "Not very fitting for the Chosen One."
"Out of all of the headlines written about me, I'd say that'd only be number 15 on the worst list," Harry replied.
"What're you two talking about?" Hermione appeared behind them suddenly, causing both Ron and Harry to jump.
"Nothing, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh, turning around in so he could look up at the girl.
"About time you showed up, I thought I was going to starve to death," Ron said, springing to his feet and gathering up his things. Harry, however, remained in his seat.
"Aren't you coming to breakfast?" Hermione asked, noticing that Harry was still sitting.
"Nah, I'm going to stay here and finish up a bit of homework before lessons," Harry answered, waving his hand at them. "You two go on, I'll catch up later, okay?"
Hermione gave him a bit of a look, but just nodded her head. Harry supposed the idea of him doing homework was the sole reason she wasn't arguing with him. "Alright, we'll see you at lessons, then?"
Harry smiled at his friends as the two of them walked out of the common room. The rest of the house had already trickled out by now as well, so he was left alone and in the silence. Feeling a bit chilly now despite how hot he'd been earlier, Harry used his wand to bring the fireplace to life and got comfortable on the couch. Dropping one of his books onto the table, he opened it up to the section he'd been working on the night before and took out a roll of parchment. He hadn't been paying attention as he unfurled the parchment, and he hissed in surprise when he accidentally sliced his finger on the edge of the parchment.
Immediately bringing it up to his mouth, he sucked on it for a few moments and then brought it back out to inspect the cut. There seemed to be more blood seeping out of the cut than he would have expected from such a small wound. It was running down his finger in a steady stream and dripped onto his homework in a splattering of droplets. Realizing this, Harry cursed to himself and stood up, taking his wand out of his back pocket and healing the cut with a quick spell. Next, he used another spell to clean the blood off his of his hand and homework.
Sighing, he plopped back down and grabbed up his quill so he could pick up taking notes where he'd left off, trying his best to ignore the way his vision kept blurring in and out.
xxxxx
Flushing the toilet, Harry went over to the sink and washed his mouth out, the sour taste of vomit still lingering on his tongue. His reflection looked pale, sweaty and gaunt. He tried to ignore the inkling of concern he was starting to feel, reminding himself that it was just the flu and he was being paranoid. Despite that, he promised himself he'd go see Madam Pomfrey at the end of the day if he wasn't feeling any better by then.
When there was the sound of a door slamming shut behind him, Harry flinched but forced himself not to turn around. He needed to stop reacting to every little sound like it was a Death Eater coming after him. He was at Hogwarts, Voldemort was dead, most of his followers had been captured, he was perfectly safe. Sometimes he found it tragically funny that he was more afraid of Voldemort now than he'd been when he was alive. After realizing that he was gripping the sink so hard that his knuckles had turned white, he slowly released his hold and allowed feeling to creep back into his fingers.
"Hey, Harry."
At the voice in his ear, Harry jumped away with a small cry of surprise, his hand whipping around to his back pocket as if going for his wand. However, it paused there when he saw that it was only Neville. His shoulders slumped and his arm relaxed at his side.
"Bloody hell, Neville," Harry said, letting out a deep sigh, his adrenaline still pumping.
"Sorry, did I scare you?" Neville asked, his eyes wide with concern.
"No, just surprised me," Harry replied, forcing a smile onto his face, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment was crawling up his neck at that moment.
Harry was perfectly aware of the way Neville's eyes were scanning over his appearance, obviously taking in how pale and shaky he was. "Everything okay, Harry?"
'Ah, the question of the day.'
"Yeah, just got a touch of the flu, it's been kicking my arse for a couple of days now," Harry responded, dismissing the question with a laugh. He must really look awful if so many people were commenting on it now.
"Oh, okay. Well, are you heading to Defence lessons now?" Neville asked, smiling at Harry. If there was one thing Harry appreciated about Neville, it was that he knew how to mind his own business.
"Yeah, I was just finishing up in here." Harry bent over to pick up the bag he'd dropped to the floor and slung it over his shoulder. After standing straight, it took at least half a minute for the black spots appearing in his vision to clear away. He had to use all of his willpower not to reach out for the sink to hold onto.
"Mind if I walk with you?"
"Yeah, sure," Harry said without protest. He just hoped that he didn't pass out on the walk over, the last thing he wanted was for Neville to be worrying over him too.
The short journey to the classroom was spent with mostly idle chit-chat. They covered topics such as NEWTs and what Neville was planning on doing after graduating Hogwarts. The fact that Neville had a pretty solid idea of his career path made Harry feel even worse over the fact that he still had no idea what he was going to do. He knew that he wasn't the only student who didn't have everything figured out yet, but considering he was some great hero who couldn't even figure out what kind of job he wanted, Harry felt like a bit of a failure.
By the time they arrived in the Defence classroom, it was already filled with students. The professor literally walked in five seconds after they had, meaning he and Neville had only just made it in time. They found Ron and Hermione sitting near the back of the room, so they made their way over to them. Neville took the seat beside Hermione and Harry moved to take the one next to Ron, but his steps slowed when the room started to swirl right before his eyes. He didn't realize how long he had just been standing there until he felt Ron tugging at the sleeve of his robe in an attempt to get him to sit down.
"Mr. Potter, is there a problem?" the professor asked him from somewhere near the front of the classroom.
Harry just blinked slowly a few times, the professor's voice sounding garbled like it was coming from underneath water. His heartbeat sounded far too loud to be normal and he vaguely wondered if it had somehow moved outside his chest. The ground felt as if it was tilting underneath him and a hot prickling sensation started at the base of his skull and spread through the rest of his head, causing darkness to crawl over his vision. His books slipped out of his hold, and he didn't realize that his body started swaying until it was too late to stop himself from crumpling to the ground.
There was the sound of several people jumping out of their seats and rushing over to him. He thought he could just make out the sound of Ron's and Hermione's voices among the rest, calling to him in panic and fear. Feeling guilty, Harry wanted to apologize to them for causing so much worry, but he was not even sure what direction their voices were coming from. Everything sounded like it was getting father away, and his body felt like it was being pulled downward, sinking into the darkness.
Author's Note: I wrote this entire chapter on my stupid phone because I've been on a road trip. Hopefully it's not too awkwardly worded or anything. Anyway, I appreciate all of the alerts, favs and reviews! Thank you for reading.