The
Christmas tree was trimmed to perfection and decorations hung all over the
house. He was away from Hogwarts, away from Snape, away from work and, most
importantly, away from that Deloris Umbridge. He was with friends who were
safe, friends who cared about him. And he had a great stash of Christmas gifts
to enjoy. Why, then, did Harry Potter feel so miserable?
"hahhShoo! Ahhhh-Chooo!" It was possible
that his head cold had something to do with it.
It was also
possible that it had something to do with the fact that he'd seen his best
friend's father nearly die right before his eyes at his own hands. Or something
like that. Harry tried his very best not to think about it... except that it was
just about all he could think about.
What
weren't they telling him? He was sure the adults knew what was going on. And
while they claimed not to hold him at fault for this, there was something
strange and unspoken that made him feel quite guilty in addition to feeling
worried and confused.
"hehhhShooo! hahhhShooo!" Not to mention
sick. "ahhhShoo! Hahh-Choo!" And
getting sicker.
"Harry,
Dear, you really don't look good at all. Didn't that Pepper-Up work?"
Harry
glanced up at Mrs. Weasley, shrugged, and looked back down at his lap. "I guess
not," he mumbled. Then, remembering how nice she had been, going out
specifically for it even though she'd done all her errands already and had been
spending most of her spare time at St. Mungos, Harry sniffed and looked back
up. "Actually, I think it did help a little. This just must be a really bad
cold."
And that it
was. His throat felt as though it was on fire and swallowing was tantamount to
torture. His nose felt stuffed and hurt every time he rubbed it, which he had
to do repeatedly because of all the sneezing. But Harry's whole body felt sick,
not just his head and his nose. His limbs ached, and his stomach felt a bit
sick, though that bit could easily have been from his nerves and worry. His
head ached and every few minutes shivers raced up and down his spine even
though he was seated right by the fire.
At the
moment, the fireside was just about the safest place to be in the sitting room
at Grimauld Place. Ron and
Hermione were playing Wizarding Chess, and Hermione was losing as usual. The
racket the pieces were making on the board was hard to miss, however. They
threw insults at each other and their masters as often as they threw punches.
It didn't take long before they noticed the twins snickering and then there
were threats between Ron and his brothers regarding the charm they'd put on the
pieces and how it had better be removed or else.
The twins
had been busy playing with a potions set they'd received. Inventory had been
slow-going as every few minutes one of them would burst out laughing or have to
apparate up to their room to check on something, sometimes with an explosion or
two to follow.
Crookshanks
was chasing something the size and shape of a mouse around the room, stalking
it when it went behind furniture and pouncing when it showed itself again. He
wouldn't let it escape out of the room and it seemed to be unable to find a
suitable place to hide. Harry wasn't exactly sure what it was, though he was
pretty sure he did not want to know. No doubt it was some pest of a magic
creature that Sirius had inherited along with the house, because Crookshanks
seemed determined to catch it. And that meant running at full speeds, knocking
over or running over anything in the way, from chess games to vials of potion
to cups of eggnog and dishes of peppermints. As such, Molly had been in and out
quite a lot, doing cleanup and shaking her fingers at her children for various
things.
About five
paces to his right stood the Christmas tree, which had been decorated with a
variety of ornaments as well as several dozen special candles. They could be
lit or snuffed out with the simple wave of a wand, but when you touched the
flame it wasn't really there so nothing could catch on it and start a fire. Ginny
was sitting at the base of the tree, waving her wand to make the candles go on
and off in time to the music blasting out of the wireless. It was a haunting,
magical sort of tune that didn't seem to go at all with the spirit of the
season, but sort of summed up how Harry was feeling at the moment.
"hahh-hahh-AHShhhh! HahChooo!" His
handkerchief rarely left his hand, though he used it conservatively because his
nose felt so sore.
"Goodness.
Maybe you should go up to bed early tonight?" Mrs. Weasley suggested in the
sort of motherly tone that was both sympathetic and making it clear that it was
a directive, not a suggestion.
"You really
should," piped up Ginny, and Ron and Hermione nodded.
Harry had
been sick since that morning, and had quickly come to the conclusion that he
felt slightly less miserable when surrounded by his friends. But he supposed
that they didn't need or want him around while all he was doing was sneezing
and feeling sick. He didn't want to ruin their festivities, and had hoped
sitting in the large blue velvet armchair by the fire would allow him to keep
his distance so he wouldn't get them sick. But he supposed it was silly to stay
there if they wanted him gone. Besides, the flickering lights on the tree and
the fire, as well, were making him feel drowsy. So he stood, taking with him
the thick beige blanket he'd pulled from his bed and had kept wrapped around
him for most of the day. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'll go then."
"Harry,"
said Hermione, ignoring the row her places were having as they disagreed with
each other about their next move. "That's not what we--"
"It's all
right," he said, cutting her off because he knew what she would say. "I'll just
go upstairs." Part of the blanket dragged on the floor behind him as he left,
ignoring the way they were calling him back. He didn't need their sympathy. He
needed answers, and they couldn't give those to him. Well, Molly might have
been able to, but out of everyone, she was the least likely to do so. So there
was really no point in sticking around to be pitied by everyone while he felt
too miserable to join in on the fun.
He climbed
the stairs, his eyes drawn to the bright squares and rectangles on the walls
where pictures used to hang against faded wallpaper. But when he got to the top
of the stairs, his head was spinning. In front of him was a hallway. It was not
at all like the hallway from his dreams, but it reminded him of it just the same.
Harry shivered and shut his eyes tightly. He made his way, blindly, to the
bedroom and shut the door behind him.
Harry
flipped on the lights and then settled down on his bed. He propped his three
pillows up against the headboard and pulled the covers up to his waist with the
beige blanket still around his shoulders. Then he bent his legs at the knee and
rested a book against them. It was one of the volumes Sirius and Remus had
given him as a present. He had been using his illness as an excuse to read up
on dangers and techniques, and was making a mental list of things to cover at
the DA meetings. At least this way he felt like he was doing something.
"huhh-AHChooo! hahhChooo!" Something
other than sneezing, that is. Harry still had his handkerchief close at hand,
but plucked a few tissues out of the box on his nightstand anyway. He blew his
nose multiple times, balled up the mess, and tossed it into the trash bin he'd
moved to be beside his bed.
Ron came up
twenty-two sneezes later, and got ready for bed very slowly. When he finally decided
it was time to turn in, he turned to Harry. "You think maybe we could shut off
the lights? I mean, if you really need to read, it's okay and all..."
"Nah, go
ahead. It's all right," Harry said, hoping he sounded convincing. He really
wanted to keep reading and really wanted the lights on as well. But he wasn't
about to get into that with Ron right now.
So Ron
switched the lights off and Harry was left blanketed by darkness, his book open
on his lap. He waited a little while until he was sure Ron was asleep. Ron's
breathing always changed so drastically that it was easy to determine.
Then Harry
pulled out his wand. "Lumos!" The
wand tip lit up and he held it up at chest level so he could see the words on
the page. It was slow going, however. The light did not extend far, and if he
held his wand right in the center, he could not make out words at the tops,
bottoms, and sides of the pages. So he had to move his wand about as he read.
The light was not very bright, either. The pages came out yellow instead of
white or light beige. Harry had to squint a little and his eyes quickly grew
even more tired than they had been before. It was soon quite clear that he was
not going to get any more reading done there.
But the
thought of going to sleep did not enter Harry's mind. On the contrary, he was
determined to do all he could to keep from sleeping. So he grabbed his book,
hugged the blanket around his shoulders, tucked the tissue box under his arm,
and quickly headed downstairs.
The house
was much quieter now. Several stairs squeaked and a few floorboards creaked. He
looked in on the sitting room and saw the fire still ablaze in a comforting
sort of way. But now Mrs. Weasley and Bill sat in front of it, discussing something
in hushed voices. Harry wished he had thought to bring an extendable ear along
with. His nose began to tickle fiercely, and Harry knew a sneeze was imminent.
Not wanting to be discovered up and about, he quickly made his way to the
kitchen.
Once there,
he pulled out a few tissues and buried his nose in them to muffle the sounds. "hahhhChphhh! hahShhphhhh!" Immediately
he lifted his head and looked around, making sure he hadn't been heard. Seconds
and then minutes passed, and he was still very much alone in the kitchen. With
a relieved sigh, he sat down at the table and placed the book and tissue box
upon it. He took a few tissues to rub his sore nose with, flipped to where he'd
left off in the book, and got ready to spend the long night awake.
It wasn't as
though he did not need sleep, because his body was aching for it. And it wasn't
as though he wasn't tired, because his eyelids felt terribly heavy and were
threatening to drop even with the lights on in the room. Harry even knew how
important it was for him to get sleep if he wanted to make a proper recovery. But
Harry had weighed his options and had elected to stay awake.
Harry
Potter had seen a lot of scary things in his life, and had faced them head-on in
one way or the other. It wasn't in his nature to run. But after what had
happened to Mr. Weasley and with his cold and what he guessed was a fever, he
did not feel strong enough to face anything, even his dreams. Assuming that was
indeed what they were. There was absolutely no way he was going to allow
himself to go to sleep if it meant another one of those nightmares and waking
up to find a friend injured or dead. And since he wasn't being told exactly
what was going on, Harry fought the only way he could.
"ah-hahhh-Shmphhhh! ahhhhShphhh! Sniff!"
"Harry?"
Harry
recognized the voice without having to look, but still politely raised his head
out of the book. It was Professor Lupin.
Remus'
voice was soft, "I just came down for a glass of warm milk before bed. What are
you doing here?"
Harry
thought that was rather obvious. He had a book open on the table and nothing
else around. Clearly, he was reading. But he wasn't going to be sarcastic to
Lupin. "I'm just reading. It's one of the books you and Sirius gave me. Thank
you again, by the way. I absolutely... love... loveithahhhChhhhh! Hahh-hahh-CHooo!"
"I am glad
to hear that," Remus said, watching closely as Harry rubbed his nose into
tissues and then deposited them in a ball beside him on the table where a small
pile was growing. "And I certainly admire your diligence. But shouldn't you be
in bed resting instead of up late reading?"
Harry
shrugged noncommittally, knowing he really should be in bed and not wanting to
belittle Remus' caring. But he wasn't about to go to sleep this easily. Luckily,
he was not forced to answer. "hahhh-"
He reached for more tissues. One ripped as he pulled it hastily from the box,
so he went for three instead of two and cupped them to his face just in time. "hahhh-Shhphhh! Hahhhhh-Shooo!"
"Bless you,
Harry," Remus said.
Harry
nodded his gratitude but did not speak for the coughs seizing his body.
Remus
frowned. "Let me get you some juice."
Harry shook
his head and quickly forced the coughs to end for the most part. "No, cough, cough! Juice hurts my throat."
"Water?"
Harry shook his head. "At least let me make you some tea." Harry shook his head
yet again and Remus sighed. He thought for a moment, then went to the cupboard
and took out two mugs. He carried them to the fridge and poured milk into both.
Harry
cleared his throat. "I'm not really in the mood for warm milk, either," Harry
tried to explain.
"That's all
right," Remus said with a smile. "Because I'm making yours hot chocolate. Not
even you could say no to hot
chocolate." Clearly noticing that Harry was not saying no, he took a canister
out of another cupboard and added two heaping spoonfuls of cocoa to one of the
cups. Then he took out his wand, said a spell, and tapped the two mugs with the
wandtip until his was warm and Harry's was hot. He stirred Harry's and left the
spoon in it. Then he walked over and placed it in front of Harry. With his wand
still out, he did a spell that collected all the used tissues together then
levitated them into the wastebin under the sink. "There," he said, approving of
his own additions to the scene. "Now is there anything else I can get you?"
Harry took
a ship of hot chocolate before shaking his head 'no'. He had to admit the drink
tasted very good, and the warmth was almost soothing to his throat. He was
suddenly glad he hadn't refused. Harry thought for a moment about asking Remus
for the truth about his situation, asking what it meant that he was seeing
through Voldemort's snake's eyes... through Voldemort's eyes. But Remus, as
always, looked tired. And the moment had passed before he could think of what
to ask.
"Well then
I want you to think about going to bed," Remus said. "You are not going to get
any better sitting here."
"Good
night, Remus. And thank you," Harry said with a nod.
Remus left
with an echoing 'good night' and Harry waited until Lupin could be heard
walking up the stairs before he sighed. The truth was, he didn't feel much like
getting better. He felt like sitting up all night worrying and trying to keep
from having another one of those dreams, whatever it took.
The problem
was how vivid the dreams were. It really felt as though he were living it,
rather than dreaming it. He knew that feeling all too well. Last year at the end
of the Triwizard Tournament when he'd found himself in the graveyard, he'd felt
like he'd fallen right into one of his nightmares. He didn't want that to
happen again, not if he had a choice.
"hehhShoo! Hahh-hahhShoo!" Besides, he
was starting to get used to feeling sick and alone. Why stop now? But Harry did
smile as he drank more of the hot chocolate and thumbed through the book.
It grew
very, very late and Harry received no further disturbances. His eyes felt
tired, and he was tempted to close them for long blinks. But reminders of his dreams
and what the last one, specifically, had been like kept him from falling
asleep.
After
finishing the hot chocolate, he decided to make another cupful. After three, he
decided the chocolate was making him jittery, evident by how his leg bounced up
and down as he sat, and how he couldn't concentrate on the book. After a small
bout of sneezes, he considered getting up and taking a walk around the house. There
were bound to be some nooks and crannies yet to explore that needed some
cleaning. But there was no telling what he might find. And there was no way to
know if any of the paintings he might pass would be quiet. The last thing Harry
wanted to do was wake the whole house.
So he
headed into the sitting room. The room was empty and silent now. He sat down in
front of the fire, pulling the blanket around himself more tightly. He shivered
as he built the fire and lit it with sparks from his wand. He rubbed his hands
together right in front of it until the shivering stopped.
"hahhh-hahhh-HAHShooo! hehhhShooo!" Though
the fire made him drowsy, the sneezes kept him wide awake. "harShooo! ahhhShoo!" He sat on the floor
beside the armchair, resting his head on the seat. He watched the fire burn
more than he read from the book. And he only stopped when his stomach began to
rumble.
The
grandfather clock chiming somewhere in the house told him it was six-thirty in
the morning. So he left his book in the sitting room and headed back to the
kitchen to make breakfast.
Making
himself breakfast was something he hadn't done since his summer when staying
with the Dursleys, and then he usually made it for them as well as for himself.
He really didn't mind that particular task, however. Things like making
breakfast were easy, solvable. He didn't need magic, didn't need studying,
didn't need facts that were being withheld. He just needed a few plates and
some utensils. Harry stood at the stove, pushing scrambled eggs around a frying
pan with a spatula and continually sniffling into the crook of his arm.
Normally he'd be a little more careful when it came to his germs, but no one
was yet up and he was only making enough breakfast for himself at the moment. So
there wasn't any need to hold back his sneezes or coughs and there wasn't much
reason to hurry.
After about
fifteen minutes, Harry sat down at the table with a breakfast of buttered toast
and scrambled eggs in front of him. He'd stared at the container of orange
juice in the fridge for a while before finally deciding to try some ice water.
It turned out to be not a complete mistake, but his throat still hurt when he
swallowed and he winced repeatedly throughout the meal.
He was
nearly done when an old woman walked into the kitchen. She looked like she
might be able to stand at a normal height, but was hunched over. Her face and
hands were wrinkled and her bright white hair was held up in a kerchief. Harry
couldn't remember ever seeing her before coming in or out of any of the Order
of the Phoenix meetings, and gave a
start in surprise when the woman turned to him and gave him a "Wocher, Harry!"
He blinked.
"Todks?" And he sniffed hard. It had been a while since he'd spoken out loud,
and congestion had apparently crept into his voice.
"Oh,
sorry." Before his eyes, she morphed back into herself with lavender hair this
time. "I forgot I was in disguise. Hope I didn't give you a fright."
He shook
his head, and the images of his dreams came back to him, from graveyards to
hallway attacks, as did the image of Mr. Weasley lying in a hospital bed. No,
Harry wasn't easily frightened any more. He rubbed absent-mindedly at his scar.
Then his hand snapped down to cover his nose and mouth. "hahhChooo! ha-shoo!"
"Bless you,
Harry." She cocked her head at him. "Are you sick?" He hesitated, considering
his ability to shrug this off, but then just nodded. "Aw, that's rotten luck. There's
nothing worse than getting sick during a holiday. At least if you're in school
you can use it as an excuse to miss a few classes, huh?"
Amused,
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Guess you're right."
"Can I get
you anything?" she asked, walking over and yanking the refrigerator door open
to stare at the contents.
"Doe,"
Harry said, shaking his head just in case he sounded too stuffed-up to be
understood by people who weren't him. "I'b just goig to head to by roob after
breakfast," he told her.
"Good for
you. Rest will do you good."
Harry had
to admit she was probably right. But that didn't mean he was going upstairs to
sleep. When he finished with his meal, he told her he'd see her later, then
grabbed his handkerchiefs and book and went upstairs. He was careful not to
sneeze on the journey up, not wanting to wake the house.
He pressed
the back of his hand to his nose as it twitched madly with tickles, wanting him
to sneeze. He stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door behind him with
the hand not hugging his book to his chest. It was a mistake. The tickles
overpowered him and he doubled over. "HAHShooo!
HEHHChooo!" He took in a light breath and sneezed again. "HahChooo! Hahhh-hahhChooo!"
Ron woke up,
blinking blearily at nothing in particular. "Harry?" Harry quickly headed to
his bed and slid under the covers. Ron looked about, spotting him. "Morning,
Harry."
"Bor-bordig,"
Harry replied. He still needed to sneeze, but it waited until he'd got the
words out. "HahhShoo! AhhhShoo!"
"You still
don't sound so good," Ron said, rubbing at his eyes. "Are you up for
breakfast?"
Harry shook
his head. "Think I'm just going to spend the day up here in bed." He didn't
bother telling Ron that he'd just had breakfast. And once Ron got dressed and
left, he wasn't back the rest of the day.
Several
people stopped in to see how he was doing during the day. Hermione and Ginny
brought him soup and tea for lunch, which he ate a little of, but they didn't
stay. They left telling Harry that he needed to get some sleep, but Harry had a
feeling it had a bit to do with the fact that, in his exhaustion, he was
getting a little free with his sneezes. When Mrs. Weasley came in the first
time, she practically scolded him and told him he should be sleeping, not
reading. So the second and third times he pretended to be asleep. She brought
him a blanket and tucked it around him on the last visit. He had to wait to
smile in appreciation until she had left the room.
He did
venture out at dinnertime, mainly because of the way the twins pounded at the
door and jokingly threatened to test out a new product on him if he didn't. So
he found himself sitting at the table, feeling miserable and trying not to sneeze
more than he ate.
He pulled
back for what seemed like the hundredth time and buried his nose in his
handkerchief. "huhhChhhh! hahhChuhhh!"
The sneezes were getting stronger all the time, the congestion building in his
head. It made him feel awful.
He looked
down at his dinner plate. It seemed like such a chore to get through the steak
and green beans. He wasn't really hungry to begin with, but all the cutting and
chewing was tiring. All he felt like doing was sitting and doing nothing.
"hahhhShoo! hahhhShhhhh!" And,
preferably, not sneezing.
Across the
table, Sirius cleared his throat. "Harry? I wonder if you could help me with
something?"
"Excuse
be," Harry muttered as everyone else at the table either blessed him or tried
to look like it didn't bother them that he was sneezing so much. He looked down
at his half-eaten plate and nodded. Whatever it was Sirius needed him for had
to be better than this. "Sure, Sirius," he said nodding. He and Sirius took
their plates to the sink then headed out and upstairs.
Harry
walked behind, not sure where Sirius was leading him. Perhaps Sirius needed
help with Buckbeak? Or maybe Kreatcher was hoarding things again and Sirius
wanted help dealing with it where Hermione couldn't berate him for yelling? Or
maybe... Sirius stopped at the top of the stairs and nodded to the room on the
right. "Your bedroom?" The door was usually open, except when Sirius was inside
sleeping and didn't want to be disturbed. Harry peered inside. Nothing looked
out of the ordinary.
"Harry,"
Sirius said, slouching a little to get closer to looking Harry in the eye. "You
look absolutely exhausted. You didn't sleep at all last night, did you? Or
today for that matter?"
Harry
paused, debating telling Sirius a white lie so his Godfather wouldn't be so
worried. But, before he'd decided anything, he found himself shaking his head
no.
"Is it the
nightmares?" he asked in a whisper.
Quite grateful
that Sirius was considerate enough not to advertise the fact, Harry nodded.
Sirius sighed
and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know a bit about nightmares, myself, Harry.
Given they're probably nothing like the ones you've had, but you don't spend
thirteen years in Azkaban and come out unscathed, let me tell you."
Not sure
what to feel, Harry just nodded. He was a bit annoyed that Sirius was so
sympathetic and understanding and still
couldn't tell him exactly what was going on. And he was sorry that Sirius was
having such a hard time, especially since so much of it was Harry's fault, really.
Well, his and Voldemort's. And he was tired. Exhausted. And sick.
His hand
found his handkerchief in his pocket again and closed upon it. "hahhh..." He brought it up to his face
again. "hahhh-Chooo! hahhhShooo!" And,
now that he was not at the table, he took the opportunity to finally blow his
nose. It hurt tremendously, sore to the very touch, but the pressure was
slightly relieved after the blowing.
Sirius
waited patiently until that was all over. When he spoke, his voice was still
soft, and it was kind as well. "You know, Harry, your father used to have
nightmares from time to time."
He may have
been exhausted and sick, but he perked right up to hear that. "Really?"
"Mmm,"
Sirius nodded. "He'd wake up screaming sometimes, and then he'd crawl into bed
with me."
Harry
narrowed his eyes. "Idto bed with you?"
Sirius
chuckled. "It isn't how it sounds. It was either my bed or Professor
McGonagall's and mine was a wee bit closer and with far less flannel." He
chuckled and Harry decided not to ask how Sirius had found out what Professor
McGonagall's bed was like. He was sure that knowledge must have come about
during some sort of prank, but he wanted to get back to the subject of his
father's nightmares. Apparently, Sirius did, too. "Sometimes he would tell me
all about them, and sometimes he would just want to go to sleep. But every time
I promised him I'd stay awake and watch over him and wake him up the second it
looked like he might be having another one."
"Really?"
Harry asked again, sounding incredulous.
Sirius
nodded. "Only once or twice did I actually need to wake him up, but every time
I stayed up all night looking out for him. He trusted me to do that." Harry
knew well how much his father had trusted Sirius. "If it will help you, I'd be
happy to do the same for you, Harry. I owe you that much as your Godfather."
Harry only
needed a second to think about it. Then he nodded ardently. "Yeah, all right."
Sirius
grinned and clapped Harry on the back as he led the young man into his bedroom.
He tucked Harry into bed, with a supply of handkerchief in close reach. Then he
sat down on the edge of the bed. "Goodnight, Harry. Sleep as long as you need.
I'm not going anywhere. You'll have sweet dreams only, I promise."
With a
sniffle and a smile, Harry let himself drift off to sleep.
*
Harry woke
the next morning, feeling exponentially better. And it wasn't just his cold,
though his health had improved a bit. It was the fact that Sirius had told him
he wouldn't have nightmares and he hadn't had any. He'd been feverish and weak
and he'd slept... but he had not suffered from nightmares and, more importantly,
he hadn't killed anyone in his sleep.
He found
Sirius sitting up in bed next to him, still wearing the robes he'd had on the
night before. Sirius was reading what looked like the same book, though he
seemed much further into it than he had before, almost done in fact. "Hey,"
Sirius said, smiling down at Harry. "Good morning."
"Morning,"
Harry replied, glad to hear that his voice sounded better. He still sniffed and
cleared his throat.
"Had a good
sleep, didn't you?"
Harry
nodded. He propped himself up on one elbow and yawned deeply.
Sirius
looked sympathetic. "Do you want to go back to sleep? There is absolutely
nothing you need to do today, so if you simply feel like staying in bed, you
are more than welcome to do so." He nodded towards his book. "I've still got a
ways to go in this."
Harry
considered it a while, then shook his head. "I'm feeling kinda hungry, to be
honest."
With a
grin, "Well all right then!" He gave a stretch and stood up. Harry followed
suit. "I'm in the mood for waffles and omelets. You?"
"Sounds
good," Harry said with a smile back. He made sure he had at least one
handkerchief in his pocket, and held another tightly, even as his nose tickled
again. He leaned against the bed as he sneezed. "hahhhChooo! ahhhShooo!" But the sneezes did not feel quite so bad.
Though they were still strong, he could control himself much better afterwards
and his mind was not at all fuzzy. The sleep had most certainly been good for
him.
"Come on,"
Sirius said, patting Harry's back and putting an arm around the young man's
shoulders as he guided him out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Though
still sick, Harry did not feel nearly as miserable.