THE KILLING MOON - CHAPTER 7
Harry was panicking, in a fit of harsh breaths, he fell from the bed. Crumpled on all fours, he gasped against the pain of the creasing of his horrid wounds across his chest. His left hand flew to his chest while his right steadied his position on the floor. But he still couldn't catch his breath and his whole body was shaking.
'Mr. Potter!' he heard a healer cry.
His eyes remained firmly shut as a hand flew to his shoulder.
He could feel the sweat beading across his forehead and flooding down his face. He wanted to throw up but clamped his jaw shut against the impulse.
'Mr. Potter,' the same voice cried again, this time softer and more caring.
His limps convulsed but he eventually gained control and loosened them, allowing himself to be helped back onto his ward bed.
The healer placed him on the edge of the bed and bent his head between his legs. But Harry could feel his heart beating faster than ever. With his elbows resting against his knees, he could see his hands shaking. He looked at them but could only see them as though they were the hands of someone else, he couldn't believe that he was looking at his fingers trembling.
'Here,' the voice said, and Harry raised his head.
He looked at healer Thomas who passed him a goblet full of purple liquid. He took the cup and without restraint or question, he gulped it back.
'That should slow your heartbeat,' she said, and she sat down next to him.
Harry managed a few longer breaths, feeling his chest easing. The tightness unfurled itself, but he was still trembling. He lifted his head once more and stared out of the window at the dark sky.
'Now,' healer Thomas said with the same soft tone, 'can you tell me what started this panic attack?'
'What?' Harry said quickly. 'This is a panic attack?' he asked and raised his hands which were still visibly shaking.
'Yes,' she nodded. 'Have you ever had one before?' she asked.
Harry frowned and then shrugged his shoulders. He probably had experienced this before, or something similar, but never would have guessed the name of what was happening to him.
Ginny couldn't believe what was happening to her. Not only was she supposed to be in bed enjoying a glorious sleep, but she would also have preferred to have been roused from her room before getting into her mismatched pajamas.
'Hermione, it's past midnight,' Ginny huffed.
In the kitchen, where Ginny had collapsed into a seat, she had found Hermione's brain exploded all over the table. It was covered in papers and notes and wedding plans.
'I'm sorry,' Hermione flummoxed. 'I've been thinking about the ushers' outfits, and I think they're all wrong.'
Ginny watched as her friend ran a hand through her frizzy hair. Instead of sighing or scolding her; Ginny smiled sympathetically and pushed the button of the kettle on.
'I've settled on the idea of navy suits and peach shirts which will match the bridesmaid dresses.'
Ginny nodded her head. 'That doesn't sound much different from what you already decided?'
Hermione's face dropped. 'Yes, I suppose you're right. But I don't want any ties around the collars. It will be too warm for layers and knowing Ron and the others, the jackets will be lost after the ceremony.'
'You're probably right,' Ginny nodded as the kettle finished boiling.
She made two cups of tea while Hermione shuffled the papers around on her desk, clearly in search of something important.
She placed a cup down in front of Hermione and sat down.
'You know you could have waited until tomorrow to tell me all this,' Ginny said carefully.
Hermione frowned sympathetically. 'I know, but the thought suddenly came to me,' she shrugged.
Ginny nodded. 'I can't help but think that this isn't about the outfits. Is there another reason you're here?'
Hermione smiled solemnly. The smile of understanding, Ginny mused. But when she looked back at Hermione, a look of complete terror became her expression.
'I'll be picking Harry up from the hospital tomorrow and I'll be bringing him back here. Ron said, on bequest of your mother, that Harry should come back here until he's ready to go back to his flat.'
'That's probably for the best.'
'Yes, I thought Harry would prefer to hear the news from me,' she huffed.
Ginny smiled. 'Plus, Harry always listens to you,' she reasoned.
Hermione nodded her head but the lines of worry etched themself perfectly across her forehead. Ginny braced herself.
'After you came to see me yesterday, I went back to work and spent the afternoon in the library.'
'Okay,' Ginny said fretfully.
'So, I did some research on Harry's attack and others like it.'
From in front of her, Hermione pulled a large pile of papers in a beige file.
'Merlin,' Ginny sighed, taking the papers, and flipping through them without fully distinguishing what she was looking at.
Ginny looked up from the papers in front of her. 'Why do you look so scared?' she asked.
Hermione's expression hardened but she clearly couldn't ignore the fact that she had found something that was devastating.
'I found a case, a very similar case, where a wizard was attacked in the New Forest by an Alpha werewolf. He suffered scratch marks all over his legs as if this werewolf was dragging him. It overpowered him but he was rescued by Aurors who had been staking out the woods. The man was taken to St. Mungos and the healers thought the wounds were healing nicely and that there was nothing they needed to worry about.'
Hermione paused and sipped her tea, but Ginny was eager to hear more.
'That doesn't sound so terrible,' Ginny commented blithely but Hermione made the same terrified face once again.
'It wasn't until two weeks had passed that anything changed about him. He was experiencing strange symptoms that he didn't tell anyone about until it was too late. He turned into a werewolf on the following full moon and attacked his family, nearly killing them.'
Ginny's mouth opened. 'What were the symptoms?' she asked with a tight expression.
Hermione looked at her dreadfully. 'An excess of energy, fidgeting, adverse reactions to loud sounds and strange smells, paranoia, and bouts of anxious thoughts.'
Ginny nodded her head. If Hermione were trying to find these symptoms in Harry, she would be hard-pressed to get the truth from him.
'You know Harry won't be willing to talk about any of this,' Ginny said.
'I know, but the healers will listen,' Hermione encouraged. 'If any of these ring true for Harry's case, then we could be spotting the early signs, and if we catch these signs early, we should be able to help him. That's why I'm staying with him tomorrow after I bring him here, I think I can monitor him without him suspecting anything, and by the time we have to meet you all at Madam Malkins, you will be able to monitor him for me.'
Ginny rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. 'Alright,' she said with a huff. 'There might be something in this now that I think about it,' she added and looked at Hermione imploringly.
Hermione, sitting forward, said, 'What is it?'
'When I saw Harry the other day, he said he had a lot of built-up energy, like a rush of adrenaline.'
Hermione's frown dropped into pure sadness. Of all the things that could be happening this week of all weeks, she would never have thought that she would currently be worrying about her best friend's potential to turn into a werewolf. But Hermione knew she was silly to even think that the only thing on her mind would be planning her wedding. Being Harry Potter's friend meant that you usually had many things to worry about at once.
'I had a nightmare,' Harry invented off the top of his head.
'Are they frequent?' healer Thomas asked surreptitiously.
Harry shook his head. 'I haven't had one for a long time but maybe that's what set off the panic attack because it's been a long time since I last had one.'
The healer stood up and rubbed her hand across her chin. 'I'll get a sleeping potion,' she decided. But before moving away, she looked at him once more. 'Do you still feel in a state of panic?'
A long minute passed before Harry answered the question. Did panic ever truly dissipate? Or was it more likely that it swelled below the surface until it would rear its ugly head again?
'No, I feel fine now, thank you,' he said, and she left him alone.
Harry had climbed back into his bed, the sweat only a coating on his skin now. The trembling had ceased but the sheer sense of severe panic truly was waving beneath the surface. If nothing else, he was extremely glad that it had been a healer who found him and not Mrs. Weasley or Hermione. They would make the problem twice as big as it needed to be, and that would not help Harry in the slightest. Right now, he needed quiet so that he could decide what to do next. But his thoughts left him clueless. And he was plagued by the very thing that had initiated the panic attack.
It had been the same potion they had been giving him since he arrived at St. Mungos, there was nothing different about its properties, nor should there have been a difference in its immediate effects.
But Harry, having finished his piece of chicken pie that evening, had pulled the stopper away from the small bottle and picked it up off his food tray. He had noticed a slightly different colour to the familiar potion. But he didn't think anything of it and instead pressed the bottle to his lips and swigged it back in one gulp.
But immediately as the liquid reached his throat, Harry's eyes began to water. The liquid stung on its journey from his mouth down his throat. He knew it should never have happened, that maybe there had been a mistake in the potion he had been given. He was about to call for a healer and suggest this but as the stinging softened and it became easier for him to bear, he noticed something else.
He had turned to the window next to his bed and this time there was no discerning the fact that his eyes had turned completely jet black in his reflection. They looked bigger than ever and then his jaw began to ache. He rubbed his hand across his jaw but was stilled by the mass of hair that had grown on the back of his hand. He turned his hands over in wonder and then his fingernails lengthened and became incredibly sharp.
Harry had seen all this before, a long time ago, when he had witnessed Remus Lupin's transformation. There was no denying it now, it was impossible, but it was undeniable. He was turning into a werewolf and that's what had started his panic attack.