“Harry?”



Hermione’s soft voice echoed through the bathroom. “Dinner’s half over, do you want me to get Sn—” She stopped short. “Madam Pomfrey, I mean?”



Harry sniffled and flicked his wrist over to check his watch.



Nausea cramped along his stomach and sweat dripped down his forehead again. His knees already ached from kneeling on the dusty stone floor. He didn’t know what he’d caught, or why he was so sick. He half wondered if Malfoy had somehow slipped him something, but he hadn’t even seen the ferret yet.



He’d been back to fifteen for all of two days and it was already going poorly. The pendant on his mum’s necklace swung forward and clinked against the porcelain.



“Or I could save you a plate?” Hermione said, her voice ringing with concern. “If you think it’s passing?”



He didn’t think he remembered her being this worried about him being sick in the toilet before, or, maybe he did. He’d thrown up when he’d arrived back in first year, but she hadn’t really known him at the time. She mothered him at the start of term since then, the only difference now was that Harry had Snape and Hermione sounded as if she was itching to get him.



Harry was nearly certain he’d just caught a stomach bug though. Snape couldn’t stop the flu.



“It’s fine,” He answered back, keeping his voice soft in case anyone else was in the bathroom. He couldn’t remember hearing anyone when he’d entered, but given the dirty looks he’d received upon entering the Great Hall, he wasn’t interested in making waves.



“Are you sure?” She asked before muttering something beneath her breath.



“Positive.” Harry said.



He wanted to add that she should go back to the Great Hall, but he sicked up again before he could say anything else.



“I’m getting you a stomach soother.” Hermione hissed.



The door slipped shut with a soft click and her footsteps faded, though Harry struggled to pay attention to them.



He wasn’t sick often. The last time he’d been truly ill might be when he’d been nine or ten and the entire house had caught flu. He vaguely remembered Dudley running a temperature and Aunt Petunia demanding he stay home. In an unsurprising turn of events, Dudley’d attempted to sneak out of the house to play with Piers Polkiss, but he tripped down the steps during his escape and landed so hard on his bottom that he sicked up right there in the hallway.



Harry remembered being concerned for a brief second before he’d been forced to clean it up.



As he leant over the toilet, he belatedly realized that he’d probably caught it because he’d cleaned it up.



Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon likely caught it by consistently kissing Dudley’s sweaty forehead. Maybe it was some form of karmic justice. He didn’t think that was necessarily true though, as it really was just the flu. It spread wherever it could.



Just as it had today with Harry.



The door opened with a bang and footsteps cracked over the stone as someone stepped closer.



“Madam Pomfrey says to stop by her after you take this.” Hermione whispered as she knocked on Harry’s stall. “She doesn’t want an outbreak on her hands first thing, but I have a feeling it’s not something she can really stop.” She added distractedly. “I wonder if she’ll have us keep an eye out for the younger students?”



Nausea spiked again as Harry remembered Hermione and Ron’s new prefect duties.



“Harry?”



Harry dipped his head low, unwilling to move until he was sure he could turn around without spewing anything on Hermione.



“I’ll slip it under the door for you,” She said quietly. “I’m sorry, this is a terrible start to the school year for you.”



A small vial scraped across the stone floor and Harry grabbed it quickly. He pulled the cork free and downed it without a thought. Once he’d made it into the bathroom, he hadn’t gone more than five minutes without getting sick and he was desperate for a reprieve.



“We’re missing a very interesting lecture from our new defense professor.” Hermione said as Harry leant away from the toilet. “Well, maybe not interesting. I asked Ron to pay attention for us, but we’re probably out of luck. Her name is Umbridge, the professor, I mean.” He could hear her arranging something in her book bag. “I wonder if we should ask her about those, erm, horses you saw pulling the carriages. I think we have her first thing tomorrow morning.”



Harry tried to reply, but only gurgled before clearing his throat.



“I’ll wait and ask—” He paused, catching himself.



Before Harry left for the Hogwarts Express with the rest of the Weasley’s, Snape had made a point of carefully informing him that their change of relationship couldn’t be openly noticed or discussed. Malfoy would go squealing to his father if he found out, to say nothing of the other Slytherin’s who had Death Eaters for relatives.



Harry’d initially been upset, though Snape also said he could visit his office whenever he wanted after classes. They just needed to be careful. Hermione and Ron understood once he’d warned them, as had Fred, George and Ginny.



“Feeling better?” Hermione asked as Harry unlocked the latch and stepped out. She smiled hopefully at him, though her wand was out as if she was prepared to cast a scouring charm.



“A bit.” Harry nodded, making sure not to move too quickly. “I think I’m alright now.” He added.



“Lovely, let’s go find Madam Pomfrey.” She said as she spun on her heel and led him out of the bathroom.



“The Ministry has proudly upheld this great institution. I am equally proud to be here, helping mould young minds—”



An overly sweet voice echoed around them as they slipped into the Great Hall. He wondered if their new Professor could hear her students whispering over her fluffy cardigan or pink Alice band. Harry tried to keep his eyes to himself, though he could feel the eyes of too many students on him as they walked. He wished they’d shove off and ogle someone else for once.



“—Though progress, for the sake of progress, should never fly in the face of tradition—”



Harry waved Hermione off as he stepped up to the matron, half wondering if he looked sicker than he felt. He couldn’t guess why else Hermione’d have walked with him.



“Potter,” Madam Pomfrey greeted after dismissing a flushed and sweating first year. “Let me have a look at you then, did you feel ill this morning, or did it come about on the train?” She asked, flicking her wand over Harry’s head. Whatever she’d cast must’ve shown him as being fine, as she nodded to herself over the results and folded her hands.



“On the train, I think.” Harry said. “Or maybe more once I got here.”



Madam Pomfrey nodded again and Harry glanced up at where he knew Snape sat, but couldn’t see him, as he was hidden behind McGonagall.



He cleared his throat against the uncomfortable clagginess that lingered. He didn’t want to be in the Great Hall, being glared and sneered at. Harry almost wished he could go back to Ms Eileen’s and sleep in his own bed tonight, but he tried to remind himself of how much he loved his bed in the Gryffindor tower. Snape had said he could come speak to him after dinner, though he had Head of House duties and several hundred other things to do.



Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to bother Snape if he was busy either. He didn’t have a fantastic grasp of how their relationship would work while they were at Hogwarts. Ron’s voice echoed in his ears, and he found himself worrying again over if Snape would think Harry was worth his time.



He shook his head gently and reminded himself that Snape had dealt with plenty of disasters and had yet to think of Harry as a nuisance.



The thought lingered nonetheless, though it was quieter now.



“Food poisoning, perhaps.” Madam Pomfrey said. “I’ll leave you with a second dose of stomach soother just in case and if you feel ill tonight, don’t hesitate to come by.”



Harry nodded and took the vial before stealing down the long aisle until he found Ron and Hermione.



“Alright then?” Ron asked as he licked his fingers.



“Just fine,” Harry said, chancing another look at Snape. He spotted him this time and shuddered as Snape sneered down at several second years. “What did I miss?”



“Nothing, Umbridge is mental.” Ron groaned.



“Ron!” Hermione started, cracking her dessert fork on the table. Lavender and Parvati glared at her before turning back to their conversation. “I asked you to listen for me!”



“And I did!” Ron argued. “She said a lot about the new term and about wanting to be—” His voice pitched high as he mimicked Umbridge’s tone. “A friend and confidant to her new students.”



Hermione’s eyes widened and she picked her fork up again. “She said she wants to be our friend?”



“Ron’s right, she sounds mental.” Harry said.



His stomach cramped, but the soother kept him from running to the toilet.



“I only caught the part where she spoke about stalling progress.” Hermione said. A thin line creased over her forehead. “It sounded ominous. Why would she want to step in the way of progress?” She asked.



“She reminds me of Percy. It’s probably all bollocks.” Ron said.



“It sounds like Ministry intervention.” Hermione said, leaning toward the two of them. “I don’t think it’s bollocks.”



“Doesn’t really matter though, does it?” Ron asked. “She’ll be gone by the end of the year anyway.” He said before crossing his arms.



Hermione grimaced.



Harry scratched at his forehead and tried to shake off a shiver. He wasn’t sure if he’d caught something particularly nasty or if his body just wasn’t used to fighting illness off. He’d have thought he’d be very skilled at fending off the flu, given how rarely he’d had it growing up.



“I don’t want to trust a jinx I’m not even sure exists.” Hermione whispered.



Harry grabbed a goblet and tried to swallow some water, though his stomach didn’t appreciate it. He wondered what he’d be doing if he’d been in Germany and gotten this sick.



“We’ve yet to have one last though, you’ve seen it yourself.” Harry said, turning back to their conversation.



“Right, see?” Ron nodded. “You’re over worrying."



Hermione looked as if she disagreed, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She turned their conversation toward Hagrid’s disappearance and Professor Grubbly-Plank’s reinstatement instead.



Harry managed to swallow a bit more water before Dumbledore stood and bade them a goodnight.



Despite Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s time honoured tradition of making their way to their dormitory together, they split so Ron and Hermione could fulfill their prefect duties.



Harry’d forgotten that they’d been selected as prefects again.



Ron looked particularly put out and Hermione seemed less interested in helping first years than she’d initially led Harry to believe. She gave Harry a stern look and eyed the small vial of stomach soother before disappearing into the crowd.



The curious looks and disgusted glares were almost getting to him. He didn’t love the idea of making his way to the common room alone.



He rounded the faded armoured knights and made his way toward the Grand Staircase before pausing and eyeing the entrance to the dungeons.



Cool air cut through his sweaty hair, making him shiver. He worried again about how Snape might react to his sudden appearance in his office, or around the Slytherin dormitory. He desperately wanted to escape the wave of students at that moment but before he could give it much thought, Colin Creevey appeared with a note in his hand.



Harry’s stomach almost seemed to settle at the sight of it. Maybe Snape had noticed Harry’s disappearance at dinner and would have something stronger to fight his flu.



Seamus pushed past them before Colin even spoke, nearly shoving him into Harry before he stormed up the staircase. He ignored Colin, though he found time to sneer at Harry before turning away. Dean followed quickly after and tossed them both an apologetic look.



“What’s up with Seamus?” Colin asked before passing the note over. “I thought he was an alright sort of bloke?



A cloying sweet perfume sailed out from the note and Harry’s stomach flipped from calm to nauseas again.



“I don’t know, maybe he ate something that didn’t agree with him?” Harry said distractedly.



“Why would he be angry with us if he ate something?” Colin asked. He climbed to his tip-toes and tried to catch Seamus’s eyes again, but failed. “Anyway, Professor Umbridge told me to give this to you,” He looked down and a faint flush cut across his cheeks. “Also I just wanted to say that I, er, well I—”



Harry blinked up and watched as Colin was caught in his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he could patiently stand here. His mouth had started watering and he had a feeling he was moments away from getting sick again.



“Well, I believe you.” Colin said with a firm nod. “I believe what you said about Cedric, I mean. And about You-Know-Who.”



Harry nodded and tried to smile. “Thanks, Colin.” He said lamely.



“My brother believes you too. We’re on your side.” He said.



“Thanks,” Harry said, feeling more awkward by the second. “I really, erm, appreciate it.” He added. “I’m gonna—” He held the sickeningly sweet-smelling note up and Colin nodded before turning and running headlong into a suit of armour.



It crashed to the ground and spilled over the stone floor. Several hufflepuffs shrieked as a shield slid into them and knocked them over.



“Sorry!” Colin shouted over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to-I’ll just—” He cut himself off and shoulders rose up around his ears as he dashed up the staircase.



Harry turned as gently as he could and stole into the boys lavatory, making his way to the toilet just in time to throw up what little water he’d tried to keep down. He wasn’t sure how long a stomach soother usually lasted for, but he felt the one he’d taken should’ve kept him from getting sick this quickly.



He rubbed his sleeve over his nose and tried to take measured breaths.



The note wasn’t helping. It’s perfume felt as if it were actually intentionally making him sick.



He flipped the note open and tried to dry his sweaty palms as he read the spidery slanted handwriting.



‘Dear Mr Potter, please find me in my office on the third floor this evening, I have a few concerns to discuss with you. Signed, Professor Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.’



Something tightened around his heart as the pendant hummed softly against his chest.



Maybe Hermione’d been right to worry.



He debated his options and sniffled wetly. He could take the other stomach soother and try and get this meeting over with quickly, but if the soother only lasted ten or so minutes, he’d be throwing up in Umbridge’s office before long. That would be a dead awful first impression.



Madam Pomfrey hadn’t thought his nausea was anything serious either, so it didn’t seem likely that if he went to her, she’d give him anything other than an overnight stay in the Hospital Wing. Harry was very interested in avoiding that. He didn’t think he’d ever stayed overnight at the Hospital Wing on his first night back at Hogwarts and he wasn’t about to break that record.



He pulled the stopper on the second vial and swallowed it as quickly as he could before making his way up the Grand Staircase and through the connecting corridors.



Despite how sick he felt and how much this note worried him, being back in Hogwarts was a balm all on its own.



The high glass windows, winding passageways and curling staircases grew around him. It felt as if they'd been steeped in something older than Harry could fathom and their soft whispers echoed to whoever tread past them.



Harry wondered idly about the phrase ‘if walls could speak,’ and what Hogwarts might say if it could.



He stopped short in front of the heavy iron banded door guarding the Defense office and knocked. He hoped this meeting could be handled in under five minutes. His stomach was blissfully calm for the moment, though he knew it wouldn’t last.



Perhaps there was a jinx on Harry that prevented him from having a pleasant first week of term.



It wouldn’t have surprised him.



“Enter!” A girlish voice called from inside.



Harry swiped his sleeve over his brow again and cast a freshening charm on his robes. He hoped he got the wand movement correct, but given the sweat still dampening under his arms, he doubted he had.



He shoved the door open and nearly retched again as the cloying perfume wrapped around him.



“Ah, Mr Potter.” Professor Umbridge smiled as he stepped closer. Taffy pink ribbons lay end to end around a claw foot desk and several fluffy pink rugs covered the worn wooden floor. A yowling collection of China plates, each with a singularly painted cat, cried and hissed from the walls.



Harry had a sudden memory of the China plates he’d broken at Privet Drive and he forced himself to push his shudders away.



He coughed against the clogged feeling in his throat and tried to screw his face up to look as if he hadn’t spent most of his evening curled around a toilet.



“Good evening, Professor.” Harry said.



“You received my message, I’m so pleased.” Professor Umbridge said with a toothy smile. “I was unsure if we’d have time to chat before lessons started tomorrow, but I had a few concerns I wanted to discuss, like I mentioned in my note.”



Harry nodded and rocked awkwardly on his heels.



“Please, do have a seat,” She said as she flicked her wand, oddly short and pale in colour, and summoned an overstuffed pink armchair.



Harry hoped Umbridge’s preference for pink didn’t ruin his love for his mum’s flat.



He slowly sat on the edge of the seat and cast a quick look around for any rubbish bins in case he’d need it soon.



“Now,” Professor Umbridge started again. She waved her wand in several arcs and summoned a painted tea pot in a pink cozy. “I want you to feel comfortable with me, dear, I understand how difficult it is to be a young person growing into a well rounded adult.” She said as she charmed the teapot to pour two cups and sent one floating toward Harry and the other toward herself. “And I came across something that greatly concerned me this past summer and in the interest of your safety, I knew I needed to get to the bottom of it quickly.”



Harry blinked dumbly as she gestured for him to drink. He didn’t fancy throwing up the overly perfumed tea, but he forced himself to take a polite sip.



“The Ministry takes a vested interest in ensuring our young witches and wizards are as safe as we can make them and you, dear boy, are very important to Minister Fudge.” Professor Umbridge said, simpering in a self-satisfied way as she said Fudge’s name. “So I must ask you where you’ve been this last August?”



Harry coughed into his tea and nearly spilled it over himself.



Professor Umbridge’s smile went wooden at the mess, but brightened again seconds later.