Chapter 5. Harry's Cold
Harry was five years old when he first got sick. Looking back on the events of the past few years, Sirius was surprised that it hadn't happened earlier; namely, under the Dursleys' negligent care. Maybe it had to do with whatever threw off Voldemort when Harry was an infant. Sirius didn't know, and was too busy having fun with, and worrying about, at being a good parent for Lily and James' son to give the matter much thought. In addition, Harry didn't pretend to be sick in order to miss school like he had during his Hogwarts years, though Sirius sometimes wished he would. He didn't get to see Harry for long hours at a time when he was at Reception.
Next year, he would be in the first form. Same hours as Reception, but more work to do. Probably a bit of homework, too as well Sirius figured. Nothing as hard as he would get at Hogwarts, but also nothing that Sirius thought Harry would really need to know later on.
Now, however, it was the beginning of July, and Harry was out of school until the beginning of September. It was still the first week of his summer holidays, and Sirius and Harry had gone to the park a lot over the past few days.
Now that Harry didn't have to wake up quite so early in the morning, Sirius was willing to let the small boy stay up a bit later. Before, his bedtime had been 7:30, no questions asked. He always had a bath and a story before he went to bed, so really, it was time to get ready right after supper. Now, since Harry was nearly six years old, Sirius allowed him to stay up an hour later. Harry usually used half of this time to play outside, on the swings, and the other half to watch some TV in Sirius' bedroom.
When Harry had to wake up at 7 to get ready for school, Sirius usually woke him up by prodding him gently, whispering in his ear, and if all else failed, jumping mercilessly onto Harry's bed. Now, the two had established a system that they each liked more than the old one (although Sirius did miss the look on Harry's face when he jumped on his bed).
Around 7:30, one of the two would wake up and then go to the other's room and try to get them to come down and eat breakfast. It was actually harder if Harry was the one to wake up first, because Sirius was a heavy sleeper and didn't need breakfast as much as Harry did. If the first person failed to respond, which was usually the case; the other person would get into bed with them and make loud snoring noises directly in the other person's ears. If Sirius did this, then Harry would usually turn over on his side and cover his ears. If Harry did this, Sirius would throw a pillow in Harry's face.
This would ensure a pillow fight until Sirius surrendered and pulled Harry under the covers with him. The two would lay together for awhile, extremely comfortable, until Harry's stomach would interfere by way of loud grumbles. Then, they would go downstairs and eat breakfast.
If Sirius woke up first, the end result was still the same, but there was no pillow fight. For this reason, Sirius usually hoped that he would be the one to sleep in.
This morning, though, it looked as though Harry would be the one to wake. Sirius glanced at the clock near his bed and it read 8:01. They had both slept in.
Well, Sirius reasoned, it's a Saturday and it's been a long school year, after all..
Sirius should have realized that this was most unusual, even for a Saturday. One of them was always up by that time.
Sirius rubbed his eyes sleepily, threw himself out of bed, pulled on a soft yellow bathrobe over his pajamas, and head to Harry's room. He knocked loudly; no response came from the child's room. He opened the door to find Harry fast asleep.
What was odd, though, was that Harry usually slept with his face above the covers. Today, his face was nowhere in sight.
"Puppy, you won't be able to breathe if you sleep like that," Sirius murmured, walking over to the bed. "We both slept in today. What do you want for breakfast?"
The head stayed under the covers. A small, groggy voice stated that he was not hungry.
Sirius sat on the bed, pulled back the covers, and put his arms around Harry. "Are you thirsty? There's some orange juice downstairs."
Harry's teeth were chattering as he said, "No."
"Do you feel okay?" Sirius asked, putting a hand over Harry's forehead now feeling rather concerned for his puppy.
The second Sirius touched the child's forehead he realized it was too hot, far too hot to be normal. What was more concerning though, there were definitely spots on Harry's face. Not huge ones, but they were definably there. They were the color of green and purple mixed.
"Tired," Harry replied in the same groggy voice as earlier, trying to grab the covers from Sirius. "Want to sleep."
"Not right now," Sirius replied, gently but firmly. "You don't look very good. We need to get you up and out of bed. Maybe you'll feel better after a warm bath?"
Of course, that wouldn't take care of the spots, but maybe it would make Harry a bit more alert.
"I'm cold," Harry complained.
"You won't be in the tub," Sirius promised. "Come on, up you go."
With that, Sirius pulled Harry out from the warmth of his covers and held the boy in his arms. Harry's teeth chattered even more and he started to sob.
"Shh," Sirius soothed, walking towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take you to St. Mungos after you get dressed and have something to eat. I suspect it's just a bug, but those spots are beginning to worry me. Also, you're never this cold."
Harry whimpered but made no reply. Sirius turned on the water and then asked Harry to check it after a few minutes.
"Is it too hot or too cold?" Sirius questioned, softly.
Harry shook his head. His face had turned paler than usual, and he looked as though he wanted to collapse on the floor beside Sirius.
Sirius pulled off Harry's pajamas, something that the five year old could usually do by on his own, but in his present condition, Sirius didn't want to overexert Harry. He lifted Harry up and put him in the water with extreme care. Harry lay down in the tub, his teeth still chattering.
"Is that any better?" Sirius questioned.
Harry shook his head, his eyes closed. All over his body were the green-purple spots.
"Does it hurt anywhere?" Sirius asked as he ran a soapy washcloth over Harry's body.
"T-tummy. Head. Nose," Harry replied, miserably.
Sirius began to stroke Harry's hair as he washed the boy, murmuring comforting words like, "It will be ok." His mind was invested in the fact that Harry's hair was so much like James' unruly hair.
Harry couldn't die. Not at age five.
After several minutes of this, it was clear that Harry wasn't getting any better. Sirius helped Harry to stand and rinsed him off with fresh, warm water. Sirius then wrapped Harry in a soft towel and combed through his hair.
"We're going to St. Mungos," Sirius decided. "Let's get you dressed."
Even though it was summer, Harry wanted to wear a sweatshirt. Sirius brought Harry's winter robes, just in case. After Sirius found his Nimbus 1000, he began to wonder when Harry had started to look so ill.
What if it's food poisoning? I'll murder those Dursleys!
"Puppy? What did you eat yesterday?" Sirius questioned as he changed into his robes.
Harry stayed silent, thinking, for what felt like an eternity. "After dinner I had a chocolate chip cookie. Aunt Petunia made them and gave me and Dudley one. Well, he got two." Harry frowned at the clear display of favoritism. "I also had some milk afterwards."
Sirius nodded. "And it just started to hurt now?" he clarified.
"This morning."
"Okay. Hold on to me, tightly. We'll take my broom to St. Mungos. Smoother than the motorbike. Floo usually makes you dizzy, no portkeys, and I don't trust the Knight Bus with kids. Stuart can't drive to save his life."
"Who's Stuart? Is he Remie's cousin?"
"No, puppy. He's the idiot bus driver," Sirius replied patiently.
The ones who have intelligence stay as far from the Knight Bus as possible, even if they can drive.
Totally clothed, Sirius pulled James' invisibility cloak out from under his bed.
"You'll want to put this on," Sirius told Harry. "We'll be seen otherwise."
Harry peered at the cloak. "Seen?" he pondered, scratching his neck and touching the cloak cautiously. It was silvery and very shiny.
"Seen by muggles," Sirius clarified. "This is an invisibility cloak. It should fit over both of us and most of the broom. Whatever remains would probably just be seen as a tree branch, but I doubt that it would draw any attention."
Harry nodded, wide eyed. "Okay."
He looked so sad…clearly Harry was in a lot of pain. Sirius pulled Harry into his arms and held Harry tightly to his chest, lest the small child fall.
"Up!" Sirius half shouted at the Nimbus.
The Nimbus flew a few feet in the air. Sirius jumped on, throwing the cloak around him and Harry. Sirius felt his godson sitting on his lap, nestled against his robes, yawning.
If only he had a camera.
"Ready?" Sirius questioned, both hands now on the hovering broom.
"Yes," replied the half excited, half anxious boy.
Sirius laughed at Harry's nerves. "Don't worry, Snitchy. This is totally, one million percent, safe. Even safer than the motorbike," Sirius reassured Harry as they flew off into the night. "Too slow, though," he added to himself.
Now that he was in the air, he felt much better about things. The Healers would be able to fix Harry, of course. In the meantime, they were flying, flying in the muggle world. What Vernon Dursley would say…Sirius burst into laughter.
Harry was not as attentive as Sirius would have hoped. He had fallen asleep, though his face did feel a little cooler than it had earlier.
As a result, Sirius enjoyed the ride to the hospital. Flying succeeded in taking his mind off the thought that Harry had this strange, deadly disease and would be dead within minutes. Even under the invisibility cloak, he could feel the wind blowing in his face, and the nature lover part of him admired the night animals, mainly the birds, hunting their prey. He had been a night person ever since his adventures with the Marauders at Hogwarts, but the recent events of the last few years made it impossible to fully enjoy it. Maybe one day, though…His mind became full of adventures to take Harry on once he was old enough, and the stories he would tell his godson about his parents' generation. Harry would surely get a laugh out of some of their almost-being-caught tales, but this would have to wait until he was much older.
Harry was too young to be pulling pranks on his godfather.
Before Sirius realized it, he was outside of the hospital. He turned to Harry who, to Sirius' amazement, was snoring loudly.
Takes after his dad in that. Poor kid, he thought ruefully.
Slowly and very carefully, Sirius landed the broom, pulled off the invisibility cloak from him and Harry, and walked towards the door. Harry followed, rubbing his eyes from sleepiness. Sirius reached out and held his hand.
"You don't want to get lost here, puppy," he warned.
Though, with your scar, I imagine it wouldn't be too hard to find you again.
Harry nodded solemnly. "I'll be careful," he promised, yawning.
Glancing at the small boy, Sirius could just imagine James' reaction. "His first broom ride and he sleeps through it! Padfoot, you're a disgrace." Then, with a wry smile, Remus would have joked, "Some godfather you are. You don't have your priorities straight at all."
Sirius felt a hard, cold lump forming in the back of his throat.
"Come on," he coaxed, taking Harry's hand. "We're almost there."
They walked to the grand entrance of the hospital. They stood in the long line. Finally, Harry tugged at Sirius' robes impatiently.
"What's wrong?" Sirius questioned.
Harry pointed to a sign with his short hand.
"What does that say?" he questioned.
"Which one?"
"That one," Harry explained, pointing. "It has a bug on it."
Turning incredibly red with embarrassment, Sirius now noticed the sign stating which floor to go to for which injury. Upon a close inspection, Sirius saw that the second floor was for magical bugs, which was most likely what Harry had.
"Good job," he laughed, ruffling Harry's hair.
As they walked towards one of the staircases, Sirius distinctly heard an old witch yelling at the red haired lady at the desk. The others looked very bored; some muttered impolite language under their breaths. He added in a bit of a whisper, "Puppy? Cover your scar with your bangs."
Harry obeyed. "Why?"
"Just trust me," Sirius pleaded.
Harry nodded, and reached for Sirius' hand. The former marauder took it gratefully. They walked up the rather long, ornate flight of stairs that looked as though someone had given them a blue paint job but then quit halfway around. They head into a small, cramped room titled, "Receptionist" and took their seats at the yellow sofa after Sirius signed their names at the desk.
As Harry pulled his cloak around him and settled into Sirius' lap, Sirius took the time to examine the people nearby. Most of the adults looked healthy and were accompanied by kids who were playing Exploding Snap, Gobstones, or Wizards Chess.
Their ages varied distinctly; one little girl who could not have been older than five was sitting on their mother's lap. She was evidently trying to take a nap, and not succeeding. Sirius could guess the reason why. Two of the kids looked as old as nine. He recognized a family known as the Weasleys, or at least a portion of it. The mother was sitting in a grey, worn chair reading "Witch Weekly" while her five children were hovered around one of the younger ones. Sirius guessed that they were four, five (or six), seven (or eight), and nine (or ten). The eldest one was wearing reading glasses and pouring over an unreasonably thick book. The seven/eight year olds were undoubtedly twins, and making a big deal about something to their younger brother. The four year old girl had straight red hair and watched with wide eyes as her brothers conferred.
"And then they put this wire thing in your arm and knock you out with this gas!" improvised one of the twins.
"Yeah, and when you're asleep they do all of these tests and find out what you're thinking. And if you ever did anything bad, they tell Mummy and Daddy, and they get really angry," added the second.
"Does it hurt a lot?" inquired the younger boy, looking as though he only half believed his brothers.
"A lot! Sometimes the pain lasts weeks, even months. I heard this one boy say that it lasted for a whole year. He couldn't sleep during that time, so he just walked around like a zombie." The twin made a rather realistic zombie-in-pain imitation.
"Now, Fred, you know that's not true," insisted the oldest boy, turning the page. "Ron's only getting his tonsils shrunk, and it doesn't hurt for more than a few days."
Sirius could tell that the oldest boy was trying to suppress a smile.
"How would you know?" demanded Fred, pushing some hair out of his eyes. "You had yours shrunken four years ago; we had ours two! I'd think that we'd remember better than you would."
The other twin nodded and stuck out his tongue at Percy.
The little girl started to cry. "Will I have to have mine shrunken, then?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Only if you're bad and don't do what Percy tells you, Ginny," replied the other twin.
"I'll be good!" she promised earnestly, glancing at her eldest brother. "Don't make me get mine shrunken, please, Percy!"
Percy sighed heavily, placing his book on the wooden desk next to him. "I have no say on the matter. It's what Mum and Dad say. In any event, Ron, the process shouldn't be too painful."
The younger boy rolled his eyes, but still looked nervous. "Thanks a lot, Perce."
"Oh, Ronniekins, don't listen to Fred and George," his mum replied absentmindedly, turning the page. "Percy's telling the truth. The twins are just pulling your leg."
"Pulling your leg?" Ron and Harry both questioned.
Sirius and the mum replied at the same time. "Teasing you."
Glancing across the room, both adults laughed, rather embarrassed. Sirius spoke up first.
"I'm Sirius Black, this tyke's godfather. His name is Harry," he explained, rumpling Harry's hair.
Best to leave out the last name. At least, for now.
"Mrs. Weasley. That's Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy," she replied warmly, pointing them out. "How old is Harry?"
"Five," Sirius responded in an offhand manner.
Did she suspect anything? If she did, hopefully the woman would keep her head and not blurt it out in front of everyone. That was the last thing Sirius, or for that matter Harry, needed. Not when Sirius wasn't planning to fully explain the murder until Harry was at least nine years old.
Mrs. Weasley beamed. "So's Ron! I imagine that they'll be in the same year at Hogwarts, then…if they both go, that is. Charlie and Bill are at the school right now, and Arthur –my husband- and I both went, so I can't see any reason why my other children won't get in. Still, you never can know for sure until the letter comes," she added.
"Harry's parents went as well. He'll be there. Right now, though, Harry's at a muggle school."
He glanced at his godson who had fallen asleep. The cloak fell over him like a blanket, and his head was almost completely hidden by Sirius' robes. Sirius, yet again, wished he had a camera to capture the image.
Mrs. Weasley seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"He looks so sweet," Mrs. Weasley commented. "Checkup?"
Sirius shook his head. "He feels very tired and he has spots all over him. He says that his stomach, head, and nose hurt. He's also extremely cold, which worries me. I'm hoping it's nothing serious, but I can't help but worry."
"Ah, it's probably Wizard Pox. Most children get it…it's like chicken pox. I guess you escaped it?"
"Either that, or it happened so long ago that I can't remember it," Sirius replied. "I hope it's not contagious."
"I don't think adults can get it as easily as children, but if you haven't had it before, you might want to be careful around Harry if he does have it."
Sirius nodded and then changed the subject to socializing young wizards. He was not going to hire some nurse to take care of Harry in case there was a small chance that he would contact the disease. Worst comes to worst, he could always have Remus come over for a few days. Still, Sirius had always been fairly healthy and even though he had suffered some nerve damage under the Cruciatius curse after he informed his mum he was leaving home, Sirius thought it was worth the risk.
"I would invite you over, but, as you know, Harry lives with the muggles, and while I have the parenting role, I can't help but think that given their paranoia to magic, it wouldn't end up being a good idea. What about meeting at Diagon Alley or something?" Sirius pondered.
"Yes, that sounds lovely." Mrs. Weasleys' eyes shone with delight. "Send me an owl, won't you? Or should I send one?" she added quickly. "I hear some muggles distrust those birds. Some paranoia about their droppings…pure nonsense, of course. Errol's never had an accident, and he's been with us for ten years."
Sirius laughed. "These muggles are similar in their abnormal fear of owl droppings." Sirius relished the word abnormal; he heard Vernon say it often enough to his wife to describe Sirius and Harry. It was nice to be able to hurl the insult back at him, even if he'd never know. "But the Dursleys haven't got much of a say in the matter." He started to say something else, but then thought better of it. He turned to Ron. "Good luck with your tonsils. Don't worry- I had mine shrunk a few years ago, and it didn't hurt for more than a day. You'll have to eat a lot of ice cream in the meantime, though," he added with a wink.
Ron beamed at him. "Yum!" he declared happily.
A tall, pale woman with yellow hair and neon robes entered the room. "Black, Sirius and…Harry," she called.
It felt as though the whole room suddenly started staring and whispering about Harry Potter. Sirius flushed considerably, and picked up Harry from the couch, trying to gently shake him awake.
"Come on, puppy," he muttered. "It's your turn."
Harry's eyes opened. Sirius picked him up, very carefully, and followed the woman. She probably was either a healer in training, or just someone who happened to work for that department in the Ministry. It was often hard to distinguish between the two.
"This way," the woman replied, leading them down a narrow, filthy smelling hallway. She stopped at one of the doors marked 108A. Once they were inside, she replied, "The Healer will be here presently," before leaving them with a curt nod.
"Sirius? My tummy hurts and I'm really cold," Harry complained.
Sirius sighed. "The healer will give you something for your stomach. I'll put a heating charm on the cloak. That might help. I'm sure you'll feel better after the healer sees you."
There was no doubt about it; Harry did look worse than before. His eyes showed a distant look, his nose was turning red, and his face was paler than Sirius had ever seen on Harry before. Sirius sat down next to Harry and put an arm around him. Harry suddenly shivered and covered his shoulders with the cloak.
A squat, brown haired witch of around forty entered the room in a quick, businesslike fashion. She wore purple, oversized robes that appeared to be cotton in appearance. "Harry Potter and Sirius Black?" she questioned, adjusting her spectacles.
Sirius nodded. "That's correct."
"Mind if I ask you some questions before we continue?" the witch questioned.
"Go ahead."
"Has he ever been sick before?"
Sirius thought for a minute. "He threw up on my robes as a baby a few times."
Harry giggled weakly.
The witch tried to hide a laugh by turning it into a rather awkward cough. "Mm hmm." She scribbled this down quicker than Sirius had ever seen anyone write before. "Any headaches before this?"
"No."
"Any history of medical problems?" she pressed.
Harry looked alarmed. Sirius shook his head. "None that I'm aware of. At least, not on his father's side."
"His mum?"
"Muggle born. Lily Evans," he replied. "She's never been here."
The witch stared at Sirius appraisingly, then nodded. "Right. That's because she hasn't been in a wizarding family. Aside from the fact that she had magic, her biology makeup is totally muggle. At least, that's what the theory says. I haven't seen any muggle born witches or wizards with any ailment before the age of seventeen, and certainly not before they got their letter accepting them into whichever school of witchcraft that they went to. I'm not talking about the purity of blood or saying that muggle borns are inferior to pure bloods or anything like that," she added, with some fire in her eyes. She seemed to be expecting Sirius to start yelling this at her. "It's simply a question of a different genetic makeup. Now, any problems before this?"
"He was mistreated for several months shortly after his parents died. He contacted diaper rash and had a slight cough when I gained custody of him."
"Any stomach aches before?" the witch continued.
"No."
"What hurts, then?" She nodded towards Harry.
"My tummy, my head, and my nose," Harry replied. Upon seeing the woman's confused look, he explains, "It hurts to breathe through it."
"How much does your nose hurt?" questioned the Healer.
Harry opened his arms to demonstrate. "A lot."
"Any spots on him?"
"Yes, and not just on his face. All over his body. I noticed it when I was giving him a bath this morning."
"Wizard pox," the healer diagnosed. "Muggles get a version of them as well. Almost everyone gets them, either as a child or as an adult. The good news is that the marks don't itch. The bad news is that if you ignore it, it can be fatal. Fortunately, you picked it up early enough," she added quickly in response to Sirius' face growing alarmed. "Harry will need to take this potion twice a day for the next ten days, even if he's totally better earlier. Don't let him outside for those days, and keep him away from the muggles he lives with as much as possible." She turned to Harry. "Are you tired?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm cold."
The healer nodded. "This one has a slight chill. Keep him warm, which I see you have done. Put a heating charm on all of his clothes, pajamas, and blankets. Might need to be stronger than a normal one, but take care not to burn him!
"Now, if he seems tired for a few days, let him rest. Probably best to give him meals in bed for a little. Baths are fine, but the water should be a little warmer than usual…not burning but warmer than you usually use on him. Keep him warm. That will protect him against the chill. In fact, that part should be the first to go away. Please contact me via the floo network if he still has this problem after three days."
Sirius nodded. The healer continued with her speech.
"He can read if he wants, or watch what muggles call the TV. Nothing that can hurt him, though. Keep him inside at all times. The only time you can let Harry outside is when you have a recheck in ten days. If everything looks normal, then he can proceed as usual. If not…well, we'll deal with that when we get there.
"He'll need plenty of fluids and a lot of the foods that he likes may not interest him now. Whatever you do, do not force Harry to eat solid foods. Soup is fine, as are the following fruits and vegetables." She waved an arm and the list appeared in Sirius' hands. "Follow this very closely. Some foods can work as counter effective in this situation. If he's not hungry, don't make him eat. His body will know when he's hungry and if he's getting enough to eat.
"Now, Harry might seem especially tired during the next few days. As I said before, let Harry have whatever rest his body needs. Trust his instincts on that.
"After ten days, Harry should completely well, but for the next few days you should gradually let him get his life back to normal. Don't rush him, but you should be alarmed if you don't see any sign of improvement within five days after taking the medicine.
"Any questions?" she finished.
Sirius was amazed to find that the Healer did not appear to be out of breath.
"Er, what kind of medicine will Harry need to take?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, it won't be too hard to get down, will it? Something like the muggle cough medicine for children?"
The witch wrinkled her nose. "Well, it will be hard to swallow. Just a teaspoon…I'll give him the first dose. The taste isn't too bad; it's flavor adjustable. Unfortunately, because of the makeup of the ingredients, it's very thick." She sighed. "The potions experts on the staff have been working at ways to make it easier, but so far, this is the best we can do. Now. He'll need some water with it. Don't even think about have Harry take it without water or some kind of mild juice. Make sure he takes it little by little so that he won't choke," she cautioned. "If he does, bring him here as soon as possible, and even then it might be too late. He should drink it in three to four swallows. Even on the later days using it, don't let Harry swallow it all in less than three. I can't tell you how many accidents we've had that way. None fatal, as of yet, but a lot of panicking that could have been avoided.
"Right. Harry, which flavor? Chocolate, mint, strawberry, vanilla, or lemon?" The witch retrieved a bottle of orange goo with brown dots scattered in it from one of the cabinets.
"Chocolate, please."
Harry's voice sounded so small, and frail.
The witch muttered an incantation, poked the bottle with her wand, and the orange goo changed into chocolate goo.
"If he gets tired of one flavor, just use the spell 'Camius' and then add whatever color you want it to be. Camius strawberry, mint, and so on," the witch clarified, handing Sirius a paper of the information she had just told him. "Have Harry come back for a checkup in two weeks, just so we can be sure that he's healthy and there are no lasting effects. You can't be too careful, you see. Any questions, then?"
"Is it contagious?"
"Yes, but not especially contagious with adults. There's a ten percent chance you'll contact it from him."
She produced a silvery spoon from the same yellow cabinet and poured out some of the goo onto it. Outside of the bottle, it looked positively loathsome. Sirius tried not to wrinkle his nose or look too alarmed; he had to set an example for Harry.
Next, the witch grabbed a glass from one of the drawers and filled it with water from her hand. "You can just use a sink or bottled water," she replied to Sirius' raised eyebrow.
She held the water and the spoon several inches from Harry's face. Obediently, he took a sip, made a nasty face that suggested he was gagging, and then tried to swallow it. After succeeding, he took a long drink of water and began to cough.
"It's hardest the first time," the witch encouraged, patting Harry on the back kindly.
Sirius saw that the Healer was mainly right. The next three swallows, though definitely unpleasant, didn't show the same almost agony. Sirius felt infinitely glad that he didn't have to take any of the medicine.
Sirius sat next to his godson on the cot and gave him a hug when the medication was finished being administered.
The Healer smiled sympathetically. "Right. Now, after you use this at night, he'll want to brush his teeth afterwards, of course. I know that it should seem obvious, but you wouldn't believe the amount of times people have asked me. Sometimes, even worse, they just assume that the kid shouldn't brush their teeth, and a few weeks later I receive news that the person has a major toothache. A cavity, of course. While we don't heal teeth the way those muggle dentists do-" The Healer shook her head as thought the idea of using a drill was no less than child abuse mixed with insanity, "-it's not pleasant on either party. Now, Harry should take the medicine on an empty stomach in the morning, and should have eaten dinner at least an hour before taking it in the evening. Any questions, then?"
Sirius shook his head. "Thanks," he replied gratefully. "Where do I pay?"
"At the desk. Five galleons for the checkup, three for the medication," she replied briskly. "No tips are allowed, but donations are welcome," she added, rather pointedly.
"You up to walking?" he asked Harry, getting down from the cot.
The witch raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't force him if I were you," she cautioned. "No unnecessary exercise. Paragraph two of the letter," she added, pointing to the paper.
"Right." Sirius turned rather red at the rebuke. He accepted the bag with the papers and medication, and scooped Harry into his arms as they walked back to the receptionist's desk.
He dug into his pocket for the eight galleons, and as he paid, noticed that the Weasleys had left.
Well, there's always Rosie, he thought, thinking of his tawny brown owl that James' dad had given him as a graduation gift. The Weasleys sure seem like nice kids… Well, the older one needs to loosen up a little, but still…
Harry fell asleep during the broom ride, yet again, and Sirius had to be careful when he put Harry to bed so as not to wake him. He changed Harry's clothes, using rather advanced transfiguration, to Harry's warmest winter pajamas. As he turned to leave, he heard Harry's small voice once more.
"Don't leave. Hug!"
Sirius realized that they had missed their morning tickle/pillow fight/cuddle period.
"All right," he smiled. He joined Harry, who snuggled against his stomach contently.
"You're soft," Harry noted softly before falling into a deep slumber.
It was several hours later that Sirius felt himself being awoken by his impatient godson.
"How do you feel?"
"Hungry."
"What do you want to eat?"
Harry thought for a minute. "Soup," he decided. "And an apple, I guess."
Apples were one of the few fruits that the healer had approved.
"You stay there. I'll be back." Sirius paused. "Are you cold?"
"A little."
Sirius held his wand to the covers and concentrated on the non-verbal spell. Harry shivered even as Sirius raised the heat, and stopped only after the blanket had reached just short of burning Harry. Sirius was a little scared by how chilly Harry was. Combined with Harry's warm pajamas, you would have thought that the temperature of the house was below zero.
Poor puppy, Sirius sighed.
It didn't take too long to prepare the small amount of food requested. Sirius found some chicken soup in one of the cabinets and was able to heat it up without any problems. While the soup heated, Sirius cut an apple into small slices.
Ten minutes later, he came back to Harry's room, carrying the food. Harry was huddled under the blankets, but was awake and didn't look as though he was in great pain.
They ate in silence for awhile, but then Sirius decided to address the Ron question.
"Harry, how would you like to meet some other kids more or less your age?" he asked.
Harry frowned. "I have friends."
"Not magical friends."
Harry shrugged.
"You met Ron Weasley yesterday, remember?" Sirius pressed. He wasn't about to send an owl if he learned, by chance, that Harry hated him. Of course, why Harry would hate Ron was beyond Sirius' reasoning, but you never could tell.
"The boy who was going to get shrunk," Harry recalled.
"Well, his tonsils were going to get shrunk," Sirius corrected with a smile.
An image of a boy fitting into a muggle shrinking machine suddenly crossed through his head.
"What are tonsils?" Harry questioned, looking puzzled.
"They are these things at the back of your throat," Sirius clarified. He opened his mouth widely to show Harry. "You see?"
Harry peered at Sirius' tonsils. "Wow. Yours are huge."
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Is that good or bad?"
Harry shrugged.
"Anyway, sometimes when you get bad sore throats, you need them shrunken. Like Ron."
Harry stared at Sirius with wide, horrified eyes. "I don't want mine shrunk!" he declared, covering his mouth with his hands.
"You probably won't need them shrunk," Sirius reassured him. "It's only if you have a lot of bad sore throats, and you haven't even had one. Don't worry. Let's concentrate on making sure you get well before we worry about any future illnesses, okay, puppy?"
Harry nodded. "So am I going to meet Ron again?" he asked as he waited patiently for his godfather.
"Do you want to meet him?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess. When?"
"Not for a couple of weeks, at least."
Harry played with his apple slices, and then he asked, "Can you read to me? Please? I'm not supposed to do much for now."
Sirius grinned. "Sure, Puppy, but first, finish your lunch."
Later that day, Sirius sat at Harry's desk, concentrating on writing a letter as the boy slept.
Dear Mrs. Weasley,
Harry's doing a little better now. You were right; he has Wizard Pox. The medicine does seem to be working, though. He should be better in a little over a week. We're going to see the Healer again for a checkup in about ten days, just to be certain.
If everything goes well –and I see no reason why it shouldn't- do you and your children want to meet Harry and I at Diagon Alley in a few weeks? Harry's interested in meeting Ron, and I'd like him to have some wizard friends who are his age.
How are Ron's tonsils?
Sincerely,
Sirius Black
Sirius read over the letter carefully. It seemed fine, though a little short. He sealed the letter, called Rosie over, and fastened the letter to her (leg).
"I'm not sure exactly where she lives, but her name is Mrs. Weasley and she has several kids. Red hair," Sirius described (thoughtfully).
Rosie hooted happily, waiting patiently as Sirius fastened the letter to her leg.
"Have a safe journey," Sirius said as he finished, patting her on the head affectionately.
Rosie nipped his finger affectionately before making her way out of the open window.
Worried, Sirius glanced back at Harry who was curled up in bed, but not asleep.
"How are you feeling?"
Harry shrugged, looking exhausted.
"Want me to read to you again?"
"Okay."
Sirius took out a book of muggle fairytales from one of the bookshelves and began to read (though not too loudly) to Harry.
Two weeks later, Harry and Sirius sat in the waiting room (once again); Sirius was reading Harry a magazine about Quidditch, and Harry was listening attentively.
"Do you think I'll ever get to play Quidditch?" questioned Harry once the article was over. "Would I be good enough?"
Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "'Course I do. Maybe not during your second year, mind you, since they rarely take the younger students, but definitely in your third or fourth year. Quidditch talent runs in the family."
"Will it be a writing test?" Harry pressed.
Sirius laughed. "Written test, you mean. Naw, that's just to make sure you understand the basics. You'll take Flying for a year during your first year, and when you try out for the team, you have to do some stunts on one of the school brooms –or your own, if you're good- and they decide whether or not you're good enough for the team."
"What role do you think I'd be?"
"Um, not a Beater; you're not aggressive enough. Maybe Keeper or Chaser, though," Sirius considered. "Depends on how much you grow in the next few years. You're still kind of short."
"I'm up to your tummy!" Harry replied indignantly.
"Barely, and only if you stand on your tip toes," Sirius retorted. "Still, you may catch up later on. Anyway, if you grow too quickly, you won't be able to sit on my lap much longer."
Harry looked horrified. "Why not?"
"Because I don't grow, but you do. Soon, you'll be really big and then, unless I'm leaning against a chair of something, you'll make me fall over!" Sirius laughed. "Don't worry, I think you still have a few more years left."
"I hope so," Harry replied cautiously. He glanced at his hands suspiciously, as though expecting them to grow another few inches then and there.
"Well, I can always put some blocks on your head to keep you short, if you want," Sirius teased.
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Ouch."
The same blond woman appeared at the door just then. This time, she wore robes of pale yellow.
"Sirius Black and Harry," she called.
The two boys stood up simultaneously and followed her into the same room as before; 108A.
"The Healer will be there shortly. Checkup?" the witch asked, retrieving a pad of paper and a green quill from her robes.
"That's right. She saw Harry ten days ago," Sirius clarified.
The witch scribbled this down, head nodding, and then scampered off.
"Er, you don't feel sick or anything, do you?" Sirius asked offhandedly, realizing that he should have asked this before.
Harry shook his head. "My tummy, nose, and head are all better!" he replied happily, scratching his ear. "Yay!"
Sirius grinned, very relieved to hear this.
The Healer made her way in a few minutes later.
"All right, Sirius Black and Harry Potter, then?" she asked, looking rushed and in a bad mood.
"That's right."
She held out her wand and did some tests to determine Harry's reflexes. He must have done well, because the Healer nodded approvingly and scribbled the information down on a piece of parchment.
"Any remaining symptoms, Harry?" she asked.
Harry shook his head.
"All of your marks are gone?"
Harry nodded. "Yes."
"Any medicine left?"
"About half of the bottle," Sirius replied, taking it out of his pocket and showing it to the Healer. "I used the exact amount you told me, though."
The Healer nodded. "Yes, that's fine. They put a little too much in. If Harry gets this again, which is highly unusual, you can use the medicine again, provided that no more than five hundred years passed." She smiled slightly at that remark. "Keep it handy for the next few weeks as a just-in-case, but after that you would do best to throw it out. It can't be reused on others…germs and all. The sterilizing charms don't work on this, at any rate." She flipped the page of her parchment. "So if you don't have any concerns…you're free to leave."
Sirius flushed slightly. "Thanks for your help," he replied, turning to Harry and nodding to him.
"Yeah, thank you," Harry echoed, grinning widely.
"Come on, Harry," he added, taking his hand as they walked out the door. "Let's go home."
Just as they made their way across the hallway, Sirius saw a familiar face. He couldn't help it; he snarled at the former Death Eater.
"Did you say something?" Harry inquired, turning his green eyes to Sirius, who felt his anger melting away.
"Nothing important," Sirius replied, turning away from the greasy haired figure, now rapidly approaching them.
Harry turned to the figure. "Hello!" he said happily, waving. "I'm Harry! What's your name?"
The figure surveyed Harry with a mix of wonder and extreme dislike. "Snape. Professor Snape, to you, Potter."
"How'd you know my last name?"
Snape seemed even more surprised that Harry was continuing the conversation. Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder, eying Snape with pure hatred.
"I knew your father at school. Perhaps you will, with hard work, not become more than half of the arrogant git he was. Then again, given who you're raised by, I imagine that this would be too much to expect," replied a cold Snape.
"You knew Daddy?" asked Harry, excited.
Sirius looked bewildered.
Snape regarded Harry with the disgust reserved for the lowest of insects. "As I said just now, your father was a prat who tormented all who disagreed with him, and hexed anyone who got in his way."
Harry pouted. "But I'm not like that!"
"You will be, with that imbecile raising you. Out of my way, Potter. Black," he added as an afterthought. Then he walked away before Harry could say anything else. Snape didn't even notice Harry's tears, or if he did, he showed no sign of caring.
Sirius, however, both noticed and cared deeply. "Shh," he murmured, picking Harry up and hugging him tightly. "Don't mind him, he's just bitter."
"M-my d-daddy wa-wasn't mean!" Harry managed to get out between tears. "And neither are you!"
"Of course he wasn't. And I'm only a little mean," Sirius joked, hoping to get a smile. It worked. "Snape hates everyone now. Just ignore him. He's a real Meanie head."
Harry nodded.
"You'll have him for Potions at Hogwarts. If we work hard enough, though, we won't let him have a chance to humiliate you like that again," Sirius promised. "If you want to."
"I do," replied Harry solemnly. "And he better not make fun of Daddy."
"Well, I can't promise that," Sirius cautioned. "We'll try to make sure he doesn't get to you, though. Besides, you don't need to worry about it for six more years."
Harry sniffled again, but let Sirius take his hand as they quietly walked out of the hospital.