Chapter Five

Blinding white light was the first thing that Harry became aware of when he opened his eyes. He immediately had to shut them again and squeezed tightly against the brightness. He opened them again slowly and allowed them time to adjust to this time. The room steadily swirled into focus and his head started to throb painfully. Bringing his hand up to his forehead, he groaned and tried to push himself into a sitting position. It was no good, though, because the dizziness forced him right back down. A sense of panic started to settle over him when he realized he didn't know where he was or what had happened before getting there. For a brief moment, he was seized with one horrifying thought: had Death Eaters caught him?

'Of course they hadn't, don't be stupid," Harry had to tell himself rationally despite every muscle in his body tensing with the urge to run.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his head to the side and saw Ron sitting in a chair beside his bed, head leaned back and mouth open as he snored, clearly asleep. He felt relief flood him at the sight of his best friend, and all of his anxiety from a second ago completely melted away. Next he became aware of something touching his hand. Looking to the other side of his bed, he saw Hermione slouched over the edge, her eyes closed and her hand brushing against Harry's.

His confusion started to mount. Quickly sweeping his eyes across the room, he immediately recognized that he was in the infirmary. He tried to bring up memories of what had happened prior to waking up there, but no matter how desperately he dug through his brain, he could not remember. His memories were so broken and jumbled that he couldn't even recall what day it was. Carefully, he he moved his hand away from Hermione's and reached for his glasses, but this only succeeded in stirring the girl from her sleep. Her eyes blinked open and she sat up immediately at noticing Harry was now awake.

"Harry! How are you feeling?" she asked hurriedly, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and moving closer to the bed.

Her words caused Ron to suddenly jerk awake next, head snapping up and bleary blue eyes looking around the room in confusion.

"Wasgoinon?" he mumbled. Shaking his head clear, his eyes widened a bit when he saw Harry. Hopping up from his chair, he moved to stand on the other side of Harry's bed. "Hey, mate, how're you feeling? You gave us a right scare, you prat!"

Harry slowly attempted to push himself back up into a sitting position again. Hermione seemed to notice that he was having trouble, because she placed her hand on his back and helped ease him up. He flashed a weak smile at her and pushed his fringe out of his face, trying not to grimace at how sweaty his hair felt.

"Sorry," Harry said, his voice hoarse and thick. His throat felt like it was sticking together and he tried to swallow to clear it, but it was about as easy as swallowing cotton balls. Ron quickly poured Harry a glass of water and handed it to him. He took it gratefully and started gulping it down quickly, feeling relief as the cool liquid slid down his dry throat. However, the relief was short lived when the water hit his empty stomach, making it gurgle and churn. He had to continuously swallow down the urge to vomit up the water.

Hermione took the glass from him when he was finished and set it on the side table. Harry tried not to look directly into her face because, just from the corners of his eyes, he could already see the way her eyebrows were knitted together with concern.

"That must be some killer flu," Ron said as he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, causing the mattress to dip down slightly.

"What exactly happened?" Harry asked, his voice still a little rough but much better than before.

"You passed out, mate," Ron answered. "You went all pale and shaky and then suddenly you were on the ground. It was bloody scary."

That was when memories of what happened started to come back to him. He recalled Neville, the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom, Ron and Hermione calling out to him in worry, and then finally darkness. He groaned in embarrassment, knowing that news of him fainting during lessons had probably already spread through the school. Why did things that were sure to cause an ungodly amount of attention always happen to him?

"How long have I been out?" he asked next.

"About five hours," Hermione responded, now chewing on her bottom lip. "We were starting to get worried that you were slipping into a coma."

Harry blinked at that information, hardly able to believe he'd been out for that long. "Have you guys been here the entire time?"

"Of course we have, we had to make sure you weren't going to croak," Ron answered.

"Oh, Ron, don't say such things," Hermione admonished, rolling her eyes. "We knew you weren't going to die, Harry."

Harry just laughed, but when it started to make him feel lightheaded, he immediately stopped and took a breath. When his head cleared, he glanced between Ron and Hermione. "So, when can I get out of here?"

Ron and Hermione shared a look at that, which made Harry immediately wary. It was Hermione who worked up the courage to bear the bad news. "Listen, Harry. Madam Pomfrey wants to keep you at least over night."

"What?!" Harry sputtered. "You've got to be kidding me, over the flu?"

"Harry, you passed out," Hermione said calmly, though once Harry was already worked up, it was near impossible to placate him; a fact Hermione was well aware of. "You were unconscious for five hours. It's only to make sure you're really alright."

"We know you hate the hospital wing and all," Ron said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "But it's only for one night, you can tough it out."

Harry wanted to fight the matter more, but judging by both the looks on his friends' faces and the increasing dizziness coming on, he decided he just didn't have it in him to argue right then. Releasing an annoyed sigh, Harry plopped back against his pillows and folded his arms over his chest.

"Alright, but I'm out of here by morning," he said, glaring at his blankets as if this were somehow their fault. "I don't care if I have to bust out."

"You are the biggest drama queen I have ever met in my life," Ron said, half exasperated, half amused by Harry's behavior; it was rather typical, after all. Harry was about to retort with some witty (aka childish) remark when his stomach suddenly gave a violent heave and the taste of bile crawled up his throat. Eyes widening, he scrabbled to throw the blankets off of him, only to end up having to roll to his side and puke over the side of the bed.

Fingers digging into the mattress, Harry coughed and gasped for breath between each heave, the clear, watery vomit hitting the floor with audible splashes. Tears burned at his eyes and his nose was dripping by the time it was all over. His arms were trembling weakly and he almost couldn't find the strength to push himself onto his back again. However, he felt a pair of cool hands on his arms, which helped him turn over into a lying position. Someone softly muttered a cleaning incantation and he could only assume it was to get rid of the vomit pooling on the floor. Still panting, he opened his tear-blurred vision and saw Hermione standing over him.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, and Harry could tell that she was trying not to sound as worried as she looked. "Do you want some more water?"

Harry quickly shook his head, his stomach still burning and clenching too painfully for him to take anything else in yet. The last thing he wanted to do was endure a second round of vomiting. He kept his lips tightly sealed for several minutes longer just in case his stomach decided to rebel at random again.

"Good to see you awake, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey suddenly said from beside him. At first, he was surprised to see the matron standing there, but it quickly became obvious that Ron, at some point, had run off to get her.

"Do I really have to stay here all night?" Harry blurted out, feeling his earlier indignation returning.

Pomfrey arched her brow at him and handed him a goblet full of what appeared to be a potion "Yes, now quit your complaining and drink this. It will help with your nausea."

Normally Harry would have resisted taking one of Pomfrey's potions as much as possible, but simply recalling how much better he felt after the last time, he readily accepted it. He was gulping it down so fast that quite a bit of it dribbled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. When he was finished, he noticed that the other three occupants were now looking at him with surprise.

"What?" he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Already, the nausea was easing and a warm sensation was spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body.

"I think that's the first time I've ever seen you drink a potion without complaint," Ron said in awe.

"Well, you would too if you've spent half the day puking out your brains," Harry pointed out, releasing the goblet when Pomfrey took it from him.

"Well, I must say, it's nice to see you being a cooperative patient for once," she said approvingly as she vanished the empty goblet. "And since you're being so compliant, perhaps we should get the examination out of the way now?"

"Examination?" Harry repeated, sitting up straight again.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, an examination," Pomfrey sighed. "It won't take but a minute."

Harry opened his mouth to complain about how ridiculously unnecessary an examination was, but at seeing the look Pomfrey was giving him, he begrudgingly shut it again. Feeling he had no choice but to agree, he just nodded his head unhappily.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, perhaps you should go back to your lessons now?" Pomfrey suggested as she starting moving the curtain to block Harry's bed from view. Hermione and Ron both hesitated at that, looking to Harry as if they were unsure about leaving him there.

"Don't worry, you two, I'll be fine," Harry said, giving the best reassuring smile he could manage. "There's really no point in you hanging around here all day, watching me lay about in bed."

"True, I didn't think anything could be more boring than History of Magic lessons," Ron joked.

"Don't say things you can't take back, Ron," Harry said, mock reprimanding.

"Well, if you're sure you'll be alright, we'll be back later tonight, okay?" Hermione said as she started packing up her things to leave.

"Sure, I'll see you then," Harry said, giving a slight wave as his friends walked out of the infirmary. There was no doubt he was going to die from boredom now, but he couldn't ask his friends to miss lessons just to keep him entertained. It wouldn't surprise him if Hermione was already fretting over the two lectures she'd missed that day because of him.

"Alright, Potter, out of your shirt, if you please," Pomfrey said to him, gesturing at his clothing with her wand. After all the times Pomfrey had seen him without a shirt, Harry knew he should be used to it by now, but he still felt a flush spread over his face. Ron and Hermione were the only people Harry didn't feel self-conscious about his body with, and that was because he knew they'd never judge him for being too skinny or too pale.

Despite his reservations, he obeyed the request and started unbuttoning his shirt. Once it was off, he suddenly started shivering when the air of the room hit his flushed skin, and he had to resist the urge to complain to Pomfrey about how cold it was in there.

"Where did all of these bruises come from?" Pomfrey asked as she inspected his arms and torso. Looking down, Harry noticed that several more bruises had appeared along his arms and chest since that morning. He assumed they'd come from when he'd fainted that morning, but he couldn't recall hitting anything on his way down.

"Quidditch practice," Harry lied again. Though, he wasn't entirely sure it was a lie because he honestly didn't know where they'd come from. Pomfrey just clicked her tongue at him and muttered something about reckless and dangerous sports.

"Alright, I'm going to run a quick diagnostic spell," Pomfrey said after finishing the surface examination of his body. "It'll give us more in depth results about your health."

Harry just wanted to get this ordeal over with, so he nodded his head. He continued shivering as Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and pointed it at him. Harry felt a prickling sensation just underneath his skin as she started from the top of his head and slowly moved her wand down the length of his body, only stopping at his feet. There was a quill and a piece of parchment floating near Pomfrey, writing down any findings the spell made.

"You can put your shirt back on now," Pomfrey said as she put her wand away and grabbed the piece of parchment, which was now filled with writing.

Harry didn't need to be told twice, quickly pulling his shirt back on and buttoning it up. Despite being fully clothed again, the shivering did not stop and he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to warm up. He waited while Pomfrey read through the results, and he didn't miss the way her eyebrows kept furrowing lower and lower the farther she read down the parchment.

"Erm, everything alright?" he asked when Pomfrey didn't say anything after awhile.

Pomfrey's bewilderment was still present when she turned her attention up at Harry. After giving him a long look, she simply rolled up the parchment and vanished it. "I'm afraid I'm going to need a little longer to study these results, Mr. Potter."

"Why? What's wrong with them?" he asked, feeling his heart starting to rise into his throat.

"Don't get yourself all worked up," Pomfrey said, waving her wand so the curtains moved back into their original place and Harry's blankets were pulled up over him snugly. "I'll be back after I've looked them over again."

Harry felt a rise of frustration in his chest when Pomfrey refused to tell him what was going on. Surely, his results couldn't be that complicated? It was just supposed to be the flu! When Pomfrey left his bedside, Harry plopped back against his pillows and pulled the blankets up higher for warmth. Staring up at the ceiling, he hoped he wouldn't go completely mad in the time it took Ron and Hermione to return.

xxxxx

"We thought you might appreciate this better than hospital food," Ron said as he dropped his arm load of food right onto Harry's lap. There was an assortment of sandwiches, pork pies, cakes and pastries all laid out before him. It all smelled absolutely amazing to Harry, who hadn't eaten a proper meal in days.

"Did you guys just nick a bunch of stuff from the Great Hall to bring up here?" Harry asked with amusement. He could just imagine his friends loading their arms up with food and marching out of the Great Hall much to everyone's confusion.

"We weren't very well going to let you eat alone," Ron said as he sat down at the edge of Harry's bed again. Hermione resumed her place in the chair next to him.

"How did the examination go?" she asked him while Harry sorted through the food they'd brought.

"It was alright," he said with a shrug as he picked up a pork pie and nibbled on it carefully. When he didn't feel any immediate nausea, he took a more confident bite and chewed in earnest, delighted to be able to eat again. He could kiss Madam Pomfrey for those potions. "I'm just waiting for the results."

"You mean you haven't gotten them yet?" Hermione questioned, showing surprise.

"Nope," Harry said, setting the half-eaten pie down and going for a jam tart instead. He hadn't eaten in so long that he wanted to make sure he got a taste of everything before he got too full. He didn't know when the next time he'd be able to eat again would be, after all. "Madam Pomfrey said she needed to go over them a bit longer, or something."

"That's a bit strange," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Normally the results are instantaneous."

"Hermione, since when has anything that involves Harry gone the way it's supposed to?" Ron said, taking a big bite out of one of the sandwiches.

"He's got a point, 'Mione," Harry said, nodding and picking out a roast turkey sandwich.

"Still, you'd think she would have found out something by now," Hermione continued, taking one of the sandwiches from the pile as well. While Ron practically inhaled his, Hermione took smaller, slower bites. Harry was somewhere in the middle, taking larger bites than Hermione but not swallowing them whole like Ron.

"I bet it's some super rare disease that only famous kids with scars on their foreheads get," Ron said after swallowing a mouthful of food. "We'll call it the 'Harry Potter' disease."

"Just what I need," Harry responded. "A disease named after me."

"Well, they've already named perfumes and stuff after you."

"They've named perfumes after me?" Harry's eyes went wide in horror. This caused Ron to laugh and he heard Hermione giggle next to him.

"Nah, mate, but it's only a matter of time," Ron said. "Can't imagine what kind of scent that would be, though."

"I don't even want to talk about something so horrific," Harry said, holding up his hand to stop Ron before he could go any further. When there was another round of snickering at his expense, Harry picked up a sponge cake and chucked it at Ron's face. It bounced off of his forehead and left a smudge of cream there as it fell to the floor at his feet. Ron blinked a few times as if trying to comprehend what just happened before making a sudden leap at Harry.

That was how Madam Pomfrey found them. With Ron leaning over Harry, holding a cake just centimeters away from his face while Harry struggled to keep it away and Hermione yelling that they were making a mess everywhere. They all froze when they saw Madam Pomfrey and Ron immediately moved back into his chair, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Er, we were just finishing our meal," Ron said and Harry had to cover his mouth to stifle a snort of laughter.

It was Hermione who'd been the first to take notice of the fact that Pomfrey had not returned alone. There was another man standing next to her."Madam Pomfrey, what's going on?"

The man was tall and thin, with greying hair and a couple day's worth of stubble growing along his chin. Judging by the state of his dress, Harry could only assume that he was a healer of sorts. The expression he was wearing was one of gravity and Harry felt his stomach twist a bit. That couldn't mean anything good.

"This is Healer Camden, he works at St. Mungo's," Pomfrey introduced the wizard. "I asked him to come here to help me with Mr. Potter's examination results."

"What do you mean? Why did you need help?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger should step out while we discuss this?" Pomfrey suggested, but Harry just shook his head.

"No, I want them here," he said with certainty. Ron and Hermione were going to find out one way or another anyway. "Now, what's going on?"

"Mr. Potter," Camden stepped forward, taking over. His voice took Harry by surprise for a brief second, not having expected it to be quite so deep. "Your examination came back with some, quite frankly, baffling results."

"Baffling how?" he asked, taking a moment to glance over to his friends. Ron looked confused and Hermione was listening intently to everything Healer Camden was saying.

"Tell me, Harry, have you been experiencing any unusual symptoms?" Camden continued, seemingly disregarding Harry's question. "Fatigue, bone pain, unexplained nosebleeds, night sweats?"

Harry felt a cold dread seeping through his stomach with each symptom Camden listed off. The fact was, he'd experienced every single one of those and several others on top of them. What did that mean, though?

"That sounds a lot like..." Hermione started, but she paused and chewed on her lip again. "Are you saying that Harry has cancer?"

"Cancer?" Harry repeated, frowning. He had heard that term a few times in his life, mostly before he'd come to Hogwarts. It never sounded like anything good when people talked about it.

"That's the thing," Camden went on. "We're not entirely sure. In many ways, it appears quite similar to a form of cancer known as Leukemia. The blood cells being created in Harry's bone marrow are not reaching maturity and as a result, the immature cells have turned cancerous. The now cancerous cells are growing at a rapid rate and spilling out into his blood stream."

"It's curable by magic, though," Hermione said, looking confident in her claim. "Almost all muggle diseases are!"

"That is true," Camden nodded. "However, we are not sure if that is the case this time. While it is similar to Leukemia in many ways, it is also different in many others. The progression of the disease seems much faster and more devastating than even that of Leukemia. From what we can gather, the disease is attacking the magic in Harry's blood, making him more susceptible than he'd normally be."

"Wait, what does that mean? How can it be attacking his magic?" Hermione was starting to sound a bit hysterical now.

"Well," Camden started. "The tests came back with indication that this disease was, in fact, caused by a curse, thus giving it magical properties. This could prove a problem in discovering what exactly the disease does and how to cure it."

"A curse?" Harry suddenly spoke up, pulling himself from the fog of his thoughts and looking to the healer. "What kind of curse?"

"We will need to do further testing to make a conclusive diagnosis on that," the healer said. "For now, we are going to attempt to use known magical treatments for cancer and see how you respond."

There was an odd rushing sound in Harry's ears as he tried to absorb that information. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but from the way the healer was talking, it sounded like Harry was very, very sick. It was almost impossible to comprehend how things went from a simple flu to well, this. Twisting the blankets in his hands, Harry looked up to notice that Camden was still talking to him. He'd barely heard a thing he'd said in the past minute or so.

"...with a round of potions that, if successful, should kill the cancerous cells in your body and allow mature, healthy cells to start growing again."

"Then he'll be better after that?" Ron asked, having been eerily quiet during most of the exchange. Harry look over at him and saw that he appeared a bit pale and sickly himself. Harry briefly wondered if cancer was contagious too, but it occurred to him a few seconds later that Ron was concerned. Harry's stomach sank and he wanted to say something positive to make all of this sound less serious than it really was, assure his friend that he was fine and everyone was being over dramatic, but nothing came to him. Nothing that wasn't a lie.

"At this point, this is all speculation," Camden responded. "I've never seen anything like this before, so we're basically starting from scratch in trying to cure it. We're hoping we can at least control it to the point where all Harry will have to do is continue taking potions."

"And if that doesn't work?" Harry managed to unstick his throat and speak up. There was a hanging silence in the room, and that gave Harry the answer he'd already suspected.

"Like I said, it's only speculation at this point," Camden said, appearing sympathetic. "We don't really know what will happen because yours is the first known case of this occurring."

'Of course I'd have some special disease no one's heard of because I can't just get sick normally, can I? Maybe they really will call it the Harry Potter disease.'

"We're already in the process of brewing a batch of potion for your first round of treatment," Camden continued on when no one else said anything. "In the meantime, we're going to run more tests on you and hopefully determine what curse caused this. If we can do that, then we can hopefully break the curse and in turn, cure the cancer."

"Don't worry, Harry, dear," Pomfrey added in. "Healer Camden is one of the best in the field; if anyone can figure this out, it's him."

Harry only vaguely took note of the fact that Madam Pomfrey referred to him by his first name, and 'dear' at that. It was definitely different from her usual terms of endearment, which usually included 'reckless' and 'irresponsible.' He felt the corner of his lip quirk in amusement at that, but it quickly faded again. Looking between his friends, he saw that Hermione was near tears and Ron was a bit green. How could this be happening to them now, after all of the things they'd already been through together? If neither Pomfrey or Healer Camden knew what was going on with him, did that mean he was a gonner for sure?

He could practically hear Voldemort laughing from his grave.

Author's Note: Thank you for all of the feedback. It's very encouraging and appreciated!