Chapter Eight

"I don't see why they always have to do the check-ups in the hospital wing. Can't they do it here in the common room?"

"Oh, Harry, you're being ridiculous!"

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"I will carry you to the infirmary myself if I have to," Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing threateningly.

"I'd like to see you try, Hermione," Harry replied, sitting stubbornly on the couch. He tried to sound resolute, but his sore throat made his voice sound weak and broken. "I'm bigger and heavier than you."

Hermione turned to Ron at that, exasperation written on her face. "Ron?"

"I'm on it!" he said, hopping up from the couch and walking over to Harry. "Sorry about this, mate."

Harry's eyes widened considerably when Ron wrapped his arms around his shoulders and hauled him off the couch. He was in too much shock to do anything right away as Ron held him tightly against his chest and started walking toward the exit.

"Oi!" Harry said indignantly when his senses finally came back to him. "What in the bloody hell are you doing, Ron?!"

"Taking a trip to the infirmary," Ron replied in a cheery voice.

"I'm not a child! Put me down this instant," Harry said, attempting to struggle free, but Ron had his arms pinned down at his side. Ron was just tall enough that Harry's feet didn't even touch the ground as he was carried out of the portrait hole.

"Well then, stop acting so childish!" Hermione admonished, giving Harry a disapproving stare.

"You can't do this to me!" Harry glared at Hermione and tried to do the same to Ron, but he couldn't quite look over his shoulder in his current position. "I'm the...the savior of the wizarding world!"

Ron laughed at that. "Just watch me, o' savior."

Harry was half carried, half dragged the rest of the way to the infirmary. By the time they arrived and walked inside, Harry had the most disgruntled and sour look on his face. Both Madam Pomfrey and Healer Camden were already there, staring at the scene with raised eyebrows as Ron unceremoniously dumped Harry on his usual bed.

"Patient Harry Potter checking in," Ron announced, grinning at the murderous glare Harry was giving him.

"Has he been giving you trouble again?" Pomfrey sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, Potter, you're much too old to be behaving this way."

"A hospital is a horrible place no matter what age you are," Harry retorted, already feeling unease at being there. His body was rather tense and he made the mistake of looking around.

The sunlight was almost eerie the way it streamed through the windows, highlighting the sterile room with glaring whiteness. The silence was so pressing that memories of the agonized cries of his friends and loved ones began to echo in his ears. The formerly empty beds were now filled front to back with broken and injured bodies, many of them merely waiting to die. Their images were so vivid and clear that he felt like he was reliving the memory all over again. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, repeating phrases of assurance and comfort in his mind. When he reopened them, the bodies were gone and the beds were empty again.

"Are you alright, dear? You suddenly look quite pale," Pomfrey's voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you need another anti-nausea potion?"

"No, I'm alright," Harry replied with a shake of his head, his voice breaking again (either because of his sore throat or because of what he'd just seen, he wasn't sure). He turned his attention over to the matron, trying his best not to think about the horrors that had occurred in that very room, about his dying friends. "I'd like some water, though."

"Of course," Pomfrey said and picked up the pitcher of water near his bed, pouring it into a glass for him. He took a big gulp but winced in pain when the water slid down his throat like broken shards of glass, causing him to cough and dribble all over himself. Using his hand to wipe it away, Harry set the cup down and rubbed at his throat.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked, apparently having noticed his pained reaction. "Is your throat bothering you?"

"A little," he replied, his voice ragged.

"Harry, if you don't mind?" Camden said, suddenly approaching him.

Harry looked at him in confusion as the healer tilted his head to the side and gently pressed his fingers against his neck. This caused Harry to wince and nearly flinch away but he forced himself to stay still by gripping the edge of the bed.

"Can you open your mouth for me?" Camden asked next, sliding his hands away from Harry's neck. Harry merely complied, feeling a bit awkward as he sat there with his mouth open while Camden stared down his throat. There was a brief moment of silence before: "Alright, thank you."

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked as he closed his mouth.

"Your lymph nodes are a bit swollen," Camden replied. "It seems your tonsils are becoming infected. When did the pain start?"

"This morning, maybe late last night," Harry responded. "I just thought it was a normal sore throat."

"It's progressed quite quickly, then," Camden said, "we can clear up the infection but we'll have to keep an eye on it in case it returns. You're going to be quite prone to infections for a while."

"I will?" Harry asked, rubbing his throat again.

"The cancer is compromising your immune system, and you'll start noticing that you're getting sick a lot easier than before," Camden explained. "Colds, flus, infections, all that fun stuff. Your body is very susceptible right now."

"Great," Harry mumbled. "So on top of one big illness, I have to worry about a bunch of smaller ones too?"

Camden chuckled. "Well, you don't have to worry too much. We should be able to keep all of that under control."

"Oh, good," Harry said. "I really hate having the cold."

"Is that really what you're most worried about right now?" Ron said with an arched brow.

"You didn't grow up as a muggle for the first eleven years of your life," Harry replied defensively. "Colds really suck when you don't have magical cures."

"Oh, he's right, Ron," Hermione interjected in agreement. "I once missed a whole week of school because of a particularly nasty cold."

"Honestly, how do muggles get on?" Ron said with amazement.

"I'm going to have Madam Pomfrey start the examination now." Camden looked to the matron for a moment before turning his attention back to Harry. "In the meantime, I'm just going to ask you a few questions, alright?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said with a nod. From the corner of his eyes, he watched Madam Pomfrey take her wand out. It wasn't so much that the examination part hurt, but it wasn't comfortable either. It felt rather intrusive.

"Other than the sore throat, have you been experiencing any other new symptoms?" Camden started with.

"Not really, just a lot of the same," Harry replied, thinking. "Well, my hip has been hurting a lot, actually."

"Right or left? Or both?" Camden asked.

"Just the right one. Sometimes it's just a dull ache and other times it's a really sharp, throbbing pain that makes it hard to walk," Harry explained, placing his hand on his hip.

"Is it like the pain you get in your collar bone?"

"Yeah, actually. It's the same kind of pain," Harry said.

"Hm. Well, when cancer starts building up in your bone marrow, it can cause joint and bone pain like that," Camden said. "It's interesting that you're experiencing pain in other places now."

"Interesting how?" Harry asked, confused.

"Our hope was that the treatments would slow down the build-up of cancer cells. Have you been taking your potions?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Every day? On-time?"

"Hermione won't let me miss a dose," Harry said. "It's actually quite annoying."

"Well, excuse me for trying to make sure you stay alive, you dolt," Hermione swatted him on the shoulder.

Camden chuckled at them. "And how have you been handling them? Any negative reactions?"

"Only that they taste like a dirty troll's bathwater," Harry responded, causing Ron to snort next to him. "Oh, and they make me throw up a lot."

"I'm afraid there's not much we can do about the taste," Camden eyes sparkled with amusement. "As for the vomiting, have you been able to keep any of the potions down?"

"Maybe a bit," Harry said with a shrug. "I usually get sick right away."

Camden frowned at that. "Well, that's not good. Some nausea and vomiting are to be expected, but if you're throwing up all of the potions, then the treatment won't be effective."

"I don't know what to tell you," Harry responded plainly. "It's not like I can control it."

"Here are the results, Healer Camden," Pomfrey cut in, handing over a long bit of parchment to Camden. The healer paused his discussion with Harry so he could read it over. The frown on his face increased very subtly, but Harry was able to catch it.

'Oh must be good news then,' he thought sarcastically.

"It's as I feared," Camden sighed, "since you haven't been able to keep down your treatments, there's been very little improvement with the growth of cancer. It's already spreading to other parts of your body, such as your lymph nodes."

At first, Harry was merely annoyed that he'd had to suffer all of those foul potions for absolutely nothing. However, when the reality of what Camden was saying started to sink in, he felt a strange fear pulling at his heart. If the potions couldn't help him, then did that mean his only option was to wait to die?

"Is there anything you can do, Healer?" Hermione asked, all color drained from her face.

"Yeah, there's got to be something else you can try!" Ron said with urgency and a trace of hopefulness.

"Well, my team and I have been working on creating a treatment specifically for Harry's type of cancer," Camden replied, turning to Ron and Hermione now. "I'm afraid it's taking longer than we'd hoped. This is unlike anything we've encountered before."

"Then what are you going to do in the meantime?" Ron asked, his expression dejected.

"We'll continue with the potions," Camden responded. "We can try to figure out a way to lessen the nausea so Harry can keep them down. How have you been handling food, by the way?"

"Uh, not well," Harry replied.

"He's barely eaten a thing in the past week," Hermione cut in. "Every time he tries, he throws it up."

"Yes, your weight did seem quite low," Camden said, checking the diagnostic results again. "We can give you some nutritional potions for that. It's not a complete substitute for eating, but it will help keep your calorie and vitamin intake up enough so you won't be dropping weight so drastically."

"If I can even keep it down," Harry pointed out.

"This potion is a little easier on the stomach," Camden chuckled. "I think you'll appreciate that it tastes like peaches."

"Does it?" Harry asked, infinitely relieved. He didn't think he could tolerate another foul-tasting potion added to the list of ones he was already being force-fed. "That shouldn't be too bad then."

Camden jotted a few notes down onto the parchment and then looked up at Harry, smiling. "Well, is there anything else you think I should know about?"

"Not that I can think of," Harry shook his head.

"Alright, well, I'll just be heading back to St. Mungo's now," Camden said. "Madam Pomfrey will clear up that infection for you and give you a dose of the nutrition potion. I'll come back sometime next week to check up on you."

"Okay," Harry said, already dreading having to go through all of that again. When Healer Camden left through the door, Madam Pomfrey appeared only seconds later with a bottle in hand. She set down a cup on his bedside table and filled it with a very light-orangish liquid. He was pleased to note that the consistency was more like milk than thick sludge.

"Now, let's take care of that throat for you," Pomfrey said as she took her wand out. With a simple tap, Harry instantly felt his tonsils decrease in size and the soreness vanish completely.

"Thanks," Harry said with a smile, rubbing his relieved throat.

"Go on, drink this up," Pomfrey said, pushing the cup into his hands. "Once you're done with that, you're free to go."

With that promise in mind, Harry started chugging the potion down faster than he had ever done before. It was a lot easier to do that time as the potion slid down his throat rather pleasantly. Camden had been right, it did taste like peaches. When he was done, he noticed that he almost immediately felt a lot more energetic. He was no longer dizzy and shaking from lack of food and his stomach felt sated like he'd eaten a whole meal.

"Wow, that stuff works fast," Harry said, handing the cup back. He'd had the muggle version of a nutritional drink before but it had been where near as effective or fast-acting. It also hadn't tasted as nice.

"Feeling better?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Much," Harry said, sliding off the bed—rather amazed by the lack of dizziness.

"I want you back here tomorrow morning for a round of treatment," Pomfrey instructed, making Harry groan. "Do not be late, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Madam," Harry grumbled as she left.

"She can be a real tyrant, can't she?" Ron said as they exited the hospital wing together.

"You don't even know the half of it," Harry shook his head. "Be glad you don't end up in there nearly as often as I do."

"Mate, I don't think the entire school combined have ended up there as much as you," Ron pointed out.

"That's because Harry is a reckless imbecile with no regard for danger or the consequences of his actions," Hermione added in, her voice disapproving but there was a glimmer of fondness in her eyes.

"Ouch! Aren't you guys supposed to be nice to me now that I have cancer?" Harry complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I don't think so."

"Out of luck, mate."

They all laughed.