Chapter Twenty-Five: Sick Days
The evening had started normal enough. Everyone in the Slytherin common room had wanted Harish and Draco to regale the story over and over again. Harish was quite enjoying himself, at first. Then, he started feeling a bit off color. Like that feeling you get when you are beginning to come down with something; feeling bad, but not enough to identify the symptoms. Not wanting to really do anything or move much. Finally, Harish turned Pansy Parkinson down on another account of what had happened, and left the room full of people, saying that he needed air.
Then, he went out to an abandoned courtyard and sat down under a tree. The teen sat there for a while, taking long, deep breaths. Then, Harish lifted a shaky hand and wiped his brow. His hand was wet.
Harish figured that he must have been coming down with some sort of sickness, so he got up and walked slowly toward the Hospital Wing. The more time passed, the worse Harish began to feel, and the longer it seemed it was taking him to get to the Hospital Wing.
Then, Professor McGonagall suddenly walked out in front of him and stopped at the sight of him.
"Mr. Blake?" she asked. "May I help you?"
Harish blinked as the room began swaying. There was a horrible pressure behind his ears and somehow the words McGonagall was saying were not connecting to his brain properly.
Harish tried to tell her that he wasn't feeling well, but nothing but a mumble came out of his mouth.
"Mr. Blake, are you all right?" McGonagall asked.
Darkness closed in on him as his eyes rolled up into his skull and he pitched forward, his mouth foaming.
HAWISH? WHAT'S-WRONG-WITH-HAWISH?
The twins returned from the kitchens loaded down with food, smiling widely.
"The party's here!" they exclaimed as the entrance to the common room was opened.
Everyone else rushed forward, eager to celebrate their champion's achieving first place, but as the twins glanced around the room, they saw that the champion they were celebrating was nowhere to be found.
"Where's Harish?" George asked Fred.
Fred shrugged.
"Have either of you seen Harish?" Daphne asked as they joined the others.
"We thought he was—"
"With all of you guys."
"He left half an hour ago," Hermione said.
"Yeah, he said he needed air," Draco added.
"We thought he went to meet up with you guys, or something," Daphne explained.
"No," both twins replied slowly.
"We haven't seen him," Fred said.
"At all," George added.
"This isn't like him," Daphne pondered aloud.
Everyone else nodded in agreement. It was certainly not like Harish to pass up an opportunity for food and attention.
NOT-AT-ALL—NOT-AT-ALL
"Minerva!" Madam Pomfrey gasped, bustling out of her office.
She had heard the doors to the infirmary open and when she had stuck her head out of the door, she had seen McGonagall with her wand out, hovering a stretcher in front of her. Lying on the stretcher was Harish Blake, who was deathly pale. The mediwitch hurried over and said, "Put him on this bed."
McGonagall did as she was told, transferring Harish from the conjured stretcher to the hospital bed.
"How did he get like this?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
Professor McGonagall explained about how she was leaving her office to send the last few straggling students to their common rooms, as it was almost curfew when Harish had walked up, pale as death and shaking all over. Then, she had proceeded to tell the nurse about how exactly Harish had passed out. While she did this, Madam Pomfrey examined the teen. His breathing was very shallow and his heart was pumping very fast.
"Sounds as if he was poisoned," Madam Pomfrey mused.
"Poisoned?" McGonagall asked in concern. All though Harish was not in her house, he still seemed like a nice boy and she was as concerned for him as she would be for any other student.
The nurse nodded. Then, she went rummaging in a cabinet for a second. Then, she managed to get a bezoar down the boy's throat. As soon as it reached his stomach, Harish began coughing, before falling into a deep sleep. His breathing and heart rate had returned to normal.
"Should I firecall his father?" McGonagall asked.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head.
"He doesn't need to have any visitors tonight. If he doesn't wake by tomorrow morning, I will call his father here. In the meantime, I think his friends and Albus need to be informed."
And she cast a monitoring spell on Harish before bustling out of the infirmary with Professor McGonagall.
WORRIED-WORRIED-WORRIED
Harish woke up with a groan. He blinked his eyes open with much difficulty to see a blurry shape in front of him. A second later, the shape came into focus and Harish realized that it was Madam Pomfrey, her back turned to him, fluffing pillows on an empty bed.
Then, she turned around and caught sight of him looking at her.
"Ah, Mr. Blake!" she exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit in the head with a Bludger," Harish replied, his voice sounding odd and scratchy. "What happened to me?"
"I believe you were poisoned," she replied.
"Poisoned?" Harish squawked. Then, as he thought about it, it wasn't all that surprising. He shrugged. It seemed as if someone really had it in for him.
Harish looked down to see that he was wearing a pair of pajamas. He glanced over to see that his wand was sitting on his bedside table. Harish grabbed up and shakily stood up. Searing pain shot up his legs.
"And what do you think you are doing?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"Going to class!" Harish exclaimed.
"No!" Madam Pomfrey scolded, pushing Harish back down onto the bed by his shoulders. "You need rest! You still need to recover from being sick."
Harish kicked his legs back onto the bed with annoyance, leaned against his pillows, and crossed his arms with a huff.
"Maybe if you agree to be good, I'll send your friends in with some books," she said.
"Fine," Harish said through gritted teeth.
Then Madam Pomfrey insisted he take a Dreamless Sleep Potion before striding away. Harish was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
When he awoke again, he found that he was feeling much better. The teen also made the pleasant discovery of a stack of books sitting on his bedside cabinet. He glanced around. It was dark in the ward and moonlight spilled in from the windows that lined the wall opposite his bed. Harish grabbed his wand and a book, muttering, "Lumos!" His wand lit and he began reading with a sigh. It seemed as though he spent a lot more time in the infirmary than the regular student.
He read for a few hours before falling asleep once again. He awoke the next morning rather late. He had missed breakfast and lunch, but Madam Pomfrey gave him a tray of food. Then, the teen was joined by his friends.
"So, how are you feeling?" Daphne asked him.
"Much better," Harish replied with a smile.
"Do you know what happened to you?" Hermione questioned.
"Well, Madam Pomfrey thinks I was poisoned."
"Poisoned?" they all gasped.
"Yeah," Harish replied. "Someone must have slipped me something the day of the second task at breakfast."
"What exactly happened?" the twins asked.
And Harish gave them his own account of what happened, telling them about how he had started to feel sick but ended up collapsing on McGonagall.
"But…who might have poisoned him?" Draco queried.
"Whoever put his name in the goblet, that's for sure," Fred replied.
"I still wish we knew the motive behind these assassination attempts, as well as who did it," Harish said glumly.
Everyone nodded knowingly and Hermione patted him on the arm.
"Don't worry, Harish," she said. "I am sure we'll catch them eventually."
"Yeah," George said. "We might catch them with a hex or two."
"And force feed them sweets that make their nose bleed so much they die of blood loss!" George proclaimed.
Everyone else made a face and looked at him weird.
"Ugh," Draco said, voicing everyone else's thoughts.
Harish shook his head and smiled.
The next morning, Madam Pomfrey let him go after one more check-up, and Harish dashed to his class. He had a lot of work to make up on, which was not something anyone looked forward to.