Draco could have wished that the initial symptoms were all of them, and that they would simply fade away.
He didn’t, though. The initial symptoms, which included spontaneously needing to use the bathroom every couple hours, were very, very draining- both to him and to Madam Pomfrey. He couldn’t eat anything without vomiting it back out less than half an hour later.
Fortunately, they only lasted three days, before they all vanished very quickly… Except the fever, it only reduced.
And of course, had he wished such, it would have been in vain. The sudden disappearance of the initial symptoms was accompanied by fresh symptoms: He was perpetually dizzy, to the point where he couldn’t stand up at all, and he also had a splitting headache.
Fortunately, he could handle that, so long as he could lie still.
At least he could eat. And drink. And, of course, lie down for more than an hour and a half at a time.
Even if the pain kept him up at night.
“Expelliarmus!”
“Good job, Neville!” Harry congratulated, his wand floating back to him in the light blue aura of Rarity’s strange, totally-not-cheating levitation. After Professor Quirrell’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class turned out to be a bit of a joke on Wednesday of the first week, he’d written a letter to his co-instructor, Rarity, and asked Hedwig to deliver it as quickly as possible… without interrupting any classes.
He’d gotten a reply back less than fifteen minutes later, and met up with the Hufflepuff in the school library fifteen minutes after that. There, they’d encountered pretty much all of the other Defense Against the Dark Arts student instructors, from all four houses- and they all agreed, up to and including Princess Luna (who was most definitely not subtle), that Quirrell’s classes were sub-par.
And that they needed to find something else to teach their students.
Fortunately, one of the Ravenclaws had quickly discovered some of the simplest self-defense spells there were. They’d studied, done a touch of practice… and then he’d left with Rarity to teach.
This particular charm, the ‘disarming charm’, simply empties its target’s hand- of their wand. Hopefully. And it was very, very simple- no fancy motions required, no special ingredients, no nothing. Just point, visualize what you wanted to happen, and say the incantation.
A surprisingly large number of students were having trouble- even, Harry was rather painfully aware, Rarity herself. She hadn’t been able to get it to work at all- but that had lined up with about one third of all of the student instructors, for some reason, so it clearly wasn’t just her.
As it had turned out, he himself had a gift for these things; it had taken him all of two minutes to master every single spell they had found. He was one of only three that had managed every last one of them on that first meeting- which had then been scheduled into place, to become a regular meeting event.
In any case, for as much difficulty as Rarity had casting bolts of red light from her wand to disarm her opponents, she had absolutely no trouble catching flying wands- or other objects at times- and returning them to their proper place with her strange blue… aura. He’d called it ‘cheating’ at one point, and she’d been quick to disagree- saying that it was ‘her normal magic, as a Raeth’.
So of course, he’d asked if he could be a Raeth too.
She’d stared at him for a few seconds, before averting her gaze. “Oh, sorry, but no. That’s kinda a biological part of an Equestrian, which of the three tribes we belong to. And we can’t be changed between them, it’s been tried.”
That didn’t stop him from noticing that she did get small responses from her wand sometimes, though never enough to actually perform the spell she was asking of it. Did that mean that the Raeth magic she was using conflicted with wand magic in some way, making it difficult to do one or the other? Rarity had learned to use her Raeth magic already, and was clearly capable of wand magic, so wouldn’t the same be true the other way around? Once he learned enough wand magic, wouldn’t he be capable of learning some Raeth magic as well?
He’d have to ask Lyra. She’d seemed mighty knowledgeable about what the various magics could do back in the Leaky Cauldron… and the other Gryffindor of the magical prodigies that had taught the instructor courses was a lot harder to find. For some reason, Lyra seemed to shine at him from across the room, whether he was looking or not.
Though he couldn’t use it to identify her- he’d noticed that one of the other Gryffindors also shone at him in that same way, and he would rather stay as far away from that girl as he possibly could.
Molly Weasley heaved a sigh, after reading Professor Dumbledore’s latest missive.
She knew the man was using her and her family as tools in his plan against Voldemort… but what choice did she have? If she didn’t cooperate with him, Voldemort might return- and win!
Apparently, he’d been poking his nose about, in his usual manner… and found that Harry was not following his intended path. She knew as well as he did that her Ron had not met Harry on the train, as he was supposed to… and, as a matter of fact, had yet to meet him, even two weeks after term started.
She knew Ron was starting to get desperate- which was never a good thing. She’d done her best, but he had turned out, unlike his brothers and sister, to be the so-called ‘runt of the litter’.
He just wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.
She wasn’t proud of it… but it made him quite susceptible to manipulation by those he trusted, and one of the most reliable pieces in Dumbledore’s puzzle of a plan.
Speaking of which, she wasn’t sure what she should tell her son. Fred and George were a lot more subtle than he in their search, and by their latest letter, they’d gotten a lead: Someone had mentioned seeing him with a bushy brown-haired British girl named Hermione Granger. She’d looked it up, and the girl was a muggleborn.
She’d informed Dumbledore, who had apparently not known of that- and his response, the letter she’d just read, had been nothing shy of relieved. Harry most certainly wasn’t following the trail Dumbledore had laid, but at least he was moving in the right direction, associating with a muggleborn. He had also, it seemed, gotten ahold of Harry’s class schedule- strange that it took him so long- and even sent her a copy.
She scowled at the page. If she sent that schedule to Ron, he’d no doubt stalk Harry and only manage to alienate himself. He needed a friendly pretext to be able to pull it off- as had been planned for the train. If, however, she sent the schedule to the Twins… They’d almost certainly find him, and they were smart enough that they’d actually be able to use it to their advantage. Meet him directly, probably somewhere innocent like the common room, introduce themselves, maybe even take advantage of being upper-year students to help him out in some way, and cement themselves in Harry’s mind as friendly figures. That’d undoubtedly help them deal with Ron’s tactlessness.
She couldn’t send it to Percy. Dumbledore had decided, and she had agreed, that Percy was best left unaware of the plan- and with his existing tendencies, he already had a rather extreme tendency to follow it. As such, Percy would probably raise all sorts of questions… and was not helping them look for Harry. He might be smart, but he was also very blunt, and would likely only alienate the boy if he knew about the search.
She glanced up as Ginny walked into the room. She was basically the complete opposite of Ron. Very smart, sensitive, and all around a very nice little girl- she was her mother’s pride. As a matter of fact, she was such a perfect girl that Dumbledore had worked her into his plan a few years back and, with Molly’s permission, had put a marriage contract on the books between Ginny and Harry.
It had been one of the toughest decisions of her life. She hated to take the freedom of choice away from Ginny, but the benefits… Not only did it force Dumbledore to plan for Harry to survive to marry her, but it also gave Ginny a quality groom… and Harry a quality bride. She’d hoped they’d be happy together.
Then, two weeks ago, at King’s Cross, one of the other Hogwarts first-years had stopped by her family to ask how to get onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He must have been a muggleborn… but Ginny had fallen for him, developed an instant crush on him. Neither she nor any of her boys knew who he was; even Percy had been asked, in her effort to sate Ginny’s burning curiosity, but none had recognized him, even after the fact.
Of course, Ginny was aware of her part in the plan… and the marriage contract. She had been aware for over a year, as a matter of fact. For the first week after King’s Cross, she had seen that knowledge tearing the girl apart- she’d never be able to marry that strange boy.
Then one day, she’d come to breakfast with reddened eyes, like she’d been crying… and a smile on her face.
“If I can’t marry him, I’ll just have to make good friends with him,” she’d stated- or declared, more like. She said it very decisively, almost like the universe was listening. “And, of course, make sure Harry gets along well with him. He can be a ‘family friend’ that we invite on a regular basis.”
After that, she’d been spending most of her free time staring off into space, a dreamy smile and, sometimes, a blush on her face. She was more than willing to work with the plan… but also a very ambitious child.
She would go far in life, definitely. She mostly hoped that Harry wouldn’t be too… restrictive of her- the girl had a lot of potential, definitely.
Draco braced himself for a new batch of symptoms at the three day mark for the second set; Madam Pomfrey had noticed that the first set had lasted for exactly three days.
He wasn’t disappointed.
His entire body burned, like he’d been dropped into an active volcano.
It didn’t last long, fortunately- just a few seconds.
The headache, however, magnified itself to the point where he almost couldn’t think. He spent most of his time curled up in a ball, his arms wrapped around his head, trying to calm the pain. Madam Pomfrey fed him at mealtimes- and though he couldn’t see anything more than a strange wash of random colors when he opened his eyes, he did notice that the food she was giving him seemed to be rather exclusively vegetables. He wanted a good steak, but she didn’t once give him anything that tasted like meat of any kind. Something felt off about his body, but his head hurt too much for him to care.