Chapter 7 - St. Mungo's Fire

Chapter 7 – St. Mungo's Fire

Ginny's blood turned to ice as her son's weak body flopped into her arms. She could feel every inch of him burning up through his thin, Snitch-covered pyjamas. Her mind reeled. Not Al. This couldn't be happening. Not to my precious Al.

Ginny knew it was wrong to admit it, and indeed she would admit it only to herself, but out of all of her children, Al was the one she had bonded with most closely. To say "favourite" would not be fair; Ginny loved each of her kids, of course. But James was headstrong and they often clashed, and he'd always been Daddy's boy at heart. As for Lily, although she was a happy baby, she was still too young to fully show her personality yet. Al, on the other hand, was a sweet boy: serious, thoughtful, and gentle. He was almost the polar opposite of James in many ways. The thought of losing Al sent another shudder of ice-cold dread through her and snapped her into action.

'Harry!' she yelled, scooping Al up into her arms and rushing from the living room into the hallway, clutching him tightly. 'Harry! Quickly! It's Al!'

The sound of shouting caused Lily, who'd been asleep upstairs, to start crying. Within seconds, Harry appeared on the landing and made his way down the stairs towards his wife.

'Love, what is it?' Harry had never seen his wife so distraught. Just the look on her face made something in his stomach drop like a stone.

'Al's burning up. He's got a fever and he just collapsed on me. We have to get him to St Mungo's right now!'

Harry ran his fingers through his characteristically messy black hair whilst taking in the news, his eyes scanning the limp body of his son lolling in Ginny's arms and his mind racing. As if on cue, Lily began to cry even louder.

'You should take him,' Harry muttered quietly after a second, glancing back up the stairs to Lily's nursery. 'I'll take Lily and James to your mum's and then follow you to St Mungo's.'

Ginny nodded. Her eyes were wild with panic, and her breathing was shallow. 'What if it's...' she began, but Harry cut her off.

'There's no time to think about that right now,' he told her, surprising himself at the calmness of his voice. 'Use the Floo in the kitchen and take Al straight to St Mungo's. I'll be there as soon as I can.'

Ginny and Harry looked at each other for a few moments before Ginny raced through into the kitchen. Balancing Al on her hip, she scrabbled frantically for the little pot of Floo powder kept by the grate, grabbed a handful of the iridescent silver dust and threw it into the fireplace. The spectacular emerald flames rose up immediately, and ensuring she was holding on to Al tightly, she stepped into the fire and called shakily, 'St Mungo's hospital!'

As the familiar sensation of spinning began, Ginny cupped Al's head with one hand to stop him being thrown around like a rag doll as the other supported his bottom, holding him even tighter to her. She squeezed her eyes shut as hundreds of fireplaces shot past, but it didn't stop the feeling of dizziness which almost threatened to overwhelm her. Just as she'd lost all orientation of which way was up and which way down, the spinning came to an abrupt stop, and she found herself stumbling and coughing out of a marble grate.

Ginny blinked as she took in her surroundings. She was standing in a deserted reception area filled with rickety wooden chairs and outdated issues of Witch Weekly. Everything, from the tiles of the immaculate floor to the walls and ceiling, was of the purest, almost unnaturally hygienic sort of white. Behind a large desk sat a woman in lime green robes, who was now looking up curiously at Ginny. On her chest she wore a badge that said "Welcome Witch". On the wall behind the reception desk was a huge plaque, bearing a coat of arms of a wand and a bone, crossed.

Within seconds, the Welcome Witch had rushed over to Ginny, her eyes resting on the limp form of Al.

'Mrs. Potter, isn't it?' the witch asked gently.

'Please help me! My son...' Ginny started, finding she was shaking.

'It's okay, Mrs. Potter,' the Welcome Witch answered calmly. 'We can help your son. Just tell me his name and what happened and I'll summon the Healers out straight away.'

Ginny took a deep breath before telling the witch about how Al had collapsed in her arms.

'I see.' The witch tried not to look shocked, but Ginny could sense alarm in her eyes. 'Were there any other symptoms besides the fever, sneezing and dizziness?' she asked carefully.

'I... I don't really know,' Ginny admitted. 'He seemed fine at dinner time. Then just a few hours later, he collapsed. Please, help him!' Ginny bit her lip to stop herself from becoming hysterical and shouting at the witch.

The witch clapped her hands, and within seconds Healers had Apparated into the reception area, all clad in the same lime green robes with the St. Mungo's crest on, but wearing masks over their nose and mouth.

'The young boy here, Albus Potter, please take him to the second floor,' she instructed the Healers before turning back to Ginny. 'Mrs. Potter, if you wouldn't mind?'

The Welcome Witch gestured at a stretcher which had been conjured from thin air by one of the Healers, and Ginny carefully laid her son down on it. No sooner had Al had been placed on the stretcher, both he and the group of Healers Disapparated.

'My son!' Ginny cried in panic. 'Where have you taken my son?'

Once again, the Welcome Witch responded with a calm, measured voice. 'Albus has been taken to the second floor, where Magical Bugs are treated. He'll have a few tests done, nothing painful, and then we'll be able to make him better.'

'Can't I go with him?' she pleaded. Her eyes were frantic with desperation.

'I'm afraid for the time being, whilst the Healers are performing their tests, I will have to ask you to wait in a separate area.'

'But–'

'Mrs. Potter, I know this must be very hard for you,' the Welcome Witch cut across Ginny, her voice a little firmer this time. 'But your son is in the best place and receiving the best care available. I will update you as soon as we know what is making Albus ill. But for now, I must ask you to follow me to the waiting area.'

Ginny's shoulders slumped with defeat. The Welcome Witch was right, of course. Ginny would only be in the way whilst the Healers did their tests. But Al was so young and so vulnerable, that as his mother it almost felt like a physical ache to be away from his side when he was suffering.

Ginny followed the witch through a set of double doors and into a long, sparkly-white, deserted corridor. Ginny was surprised that they had yet to encounter anyone else in the hospital. The other times she'd been to St. Mungo's, it had usually been bustling with people, from Healers rushing here and there to patients with various bizarre maladies in the reception waiting to be seen. It was so quiet today, however, that all she could hear was the witch's patent shoes clicking on the highly-polished floor as they walked.

At the bottom of the corridor they turned left and continued through another set of double doors, until they reached an area on the right-hand side that appeared to have thick, clear plastic sheets stretched across the doorway. On the wall to one side was a sign which read, Quarantine Holding Area.

Ginny looked at the Welcome Witch in horror as the reality of the situation dawned on her.

'Mrs. Potter, I'm afraid we can't take any chances whilst your son is being tested for Augurey Flu,' the witch explained apologetically. 'This is standard procedure. Please go through. I will be back with information as soon as I have it.' The witch gave a small, sad kind of smile to Ginny as she gestured for her to step through into the holding area.

With a heavy heart, Ginny pushed her way through several of the heavy plastic sheets until she reached what looked like a make-shift seating area. In one corner sat a frail-looking old woman with tweed robes and a big brown leather handbag, who nodded at Ginny in a cheerless sort of way. Ginny nodded back as she took a seat, glad that the old woman had not tried to engage her in conversation; her mind was so full of thoughts she didn't think she'd be able to speak.

Augurey Flu. The Welcome Witch had voiced Ginny's worse fear, the words that neither she nor Harry wanted to hear. All of the people who had been diagnosed with the virus and treated so far were adults. If Al tested positively, he'd be the first child to be diagnosed. What did that mean for his treatment and his recovery? Would his immune system be able to fight the illness? He was just a little boy. Where could he have even caught it, anyway? The last person confirmed to have Augurey Flu was Harbottle, just a few days ago...

Ginny balled her hands into fists. Harbottle was a Ministry employee. And that meant that the only way Al could have surely caught it would have been through Harry bringing the germs home with him from work. A hot flash of anger surged through her. If Al was lying here in St. Mungo's because of Harry...

She squeezed her eyes shut against the frustrated tears that threatened to spill down her face and shook her head to clear her anger at Harry. She knew she shouldn't blame him. She mustn't. It was completely irrational. It was not Harry's fault, her rational mind told her. Of course it wasn't. They needed to stick together now, more than ever. But she could not stop the nagging feeling in her gut that it was indeed Harry's fault that her youngest son was now unconscious, lying in a hospital bed, seriously ill.