Chapter 10 - The Knife's Edge

Chapter 10 – The Knife's Edge

The hundreds of Christmas shoppers who hurried their way daily through the crowds of London's busy Oxford Street were usually too preoccupied with buying bargains or gazing at the twinkling Christmas decorations to pay much attention to a rather strange, dilapidated red-brick department store that was squeezed between two of the rather more fashionable kind of shops. It was named Purge and Dowse Ltd, and what was strange about the store was that it appeared to be always "under renovation" and never seemed to be open. Also, the dummy in the window had been wearing the same outfit for the last few decades. But neither the city workers nor the thousands of tourists who visited this part of central London over the years had noticed this peculiarity. In fact, no Muggles had noticed anything at all odd. Only witches and wizards knew that this shabby-looking shop was actually the front entrance to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and a few words spoken to the mannequin would gain them entry.

Harry Potter had been to St. Mungo's several times before, both visiting patients and as an expectant parent. He'd always associated visits to the hospital therefore with a feeling of great anxiety; even the excitement of impending fatherhood was laced with apprehension and concern. But none of the tension of his previous visits had compared to the wretched, sleepless night he'd just spent in the Quarantine Holding Area, waiting for news of Al, his youngest son.

His wife Ginny, who had vented her rage at him in a tirade so fierce it could have shamed a Chimaera, had sat huddled in one corner whilst adamantly refusing to look at him. She'd not spoken a word to him since then, even when he'd asked if she wanted a cup of tea from the meagre refreshment trolley that had been provided. She'd merely shaken her head, her lips pursed into a thin line and her jaw set, still avoiding eye contact. Harry, wary of provoking her anger once more, had chosen to sit on the opposite side of the room. Now and then he'd glance at the pathetic tinsel-clad clock and back at his furious wife, but neither was giving him any solace. Time seemed to be going so slowly, he'd been convinced the hands on the clock had actually moved backwards at one point. The snakes of dread in his stomach and the old rickety chair he'd been sitting on added further to his discomfort.

The room's only other occupant, an old woman who'd had her nose stuck in one of Lockhart's awful tomes, had been escorted from the waiting area hours ago. She'd apparently been given the all-clear. Harry couldn't help but grimace at the irony; Lockhart himself was a permanent resident of St. Mungo's, having his mind irrevocably damaged due to the backfiring Memory Charm he'd tried to use on Harry and Ron in the Chamber of Secrets. Nonetheless, this hadn't appeared to halt his muse and despite never fully recovering, he had published many more books since his incarceration in hospital. Harry supposed he should feel in some way responsible for Lockhart's malady, but as far as he was concerned, he'd deserved everything he'd got.

Eventually, after fidgeting and pacing for what had felt like days but which had only really been a few hours, a Healer dressed in lime green robes appeared, looking grave. Harry immediately got up from his chair and crossed the room to join his wife's side.

'Mr and Mrs Potter,' the Healer began slowly, clasping his hands in front of his stomach. 'There is no easy way to say this, I'm afraid. Albus has been diagnosed with Augurey Flu, but as yet he is failing to respond to treatment.'

Harry's insides suddenly turned icy cold. He felt as if there was a Dementor in the room, sucking all of the joy out of him. His heart began to race as he processed what the Healer had just said.

'Not responding to treatment? Why?' Ginny voiced the question first. She was still resolutely not looking at her husband, and only the slight waver in her voice revealed how upset she was at the news.

The Healer sighed. 'I'm afraid we're not really sure. Your son is the first child to contract Augurey Flu, so we have no basis for comparison. Our medicines are regulated and adapted for children, but the potion does not seem to be working. We've already exceeded the highest dose, and Albus hasn't responded to the treatment. We risk an overdose if we try using it again.'

Ginny shook her head in disbelief as Harry gripped on tightly to the armrest of his chair.

'So what happens now?' asked Harry, eventually finding his voice.

'Well, we are in the process of conducting more tests. Albus may have contracted a new, more virulent strain of Augurey Flu, which could be why he is not responding to conventional treatment.'

'And if he has?' Harry fired back.

'Then we will try to amend the potion accordingly,' the Healer replied calmly. 'However, we are against the clock with this. Flu can cause all kinds of problems, from respiratory failure and pneumonia to dehydration and kidney failure. These can be fatal. The longer Albus goes untreated, the more danger he'll be in.'

Ginny looked as though she'd been slapped in the face at this news.

'How long before things get dangerous?' Harry asked quietly.

'Again, it's difficult to say,' replied the Healer. 'The incubation period for Augurey Flu is much quicker than standard flu; within twenty-four hours, as opposed to two days or more. Therefore, from what we have seen, the illness itself is accelerated. In normal flu, pneumonia and other complications can develop around five days after the first initial symptoms in adults. But as Albus is only a child and this is Augurey Flu, we would estimate that complications could arise within two or three days.'

Ginny at last looked from the Healer to Harry for a few moments, and then back again. 'You will be able to get him better, won't you?' she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.

'We're doing everything we can, Mrs Potter,' the Healer answered gently. 'He's in the best place.'

'When can I see him?' Ginny continued quietly. Not being able to be by her little boy's bedside when he was suffering had given her a physical ache. Being away from him was a kind of pain she had never known before.

The Healer breathed deeply through his nose. 'I understand how hard this is for you, Mrs Potter. You will be able to see Al once he has responded to treatment and is recuperating. It would put you and your husband at risk if we let you see him before that time. I do hope you understand.' He paused, giving a tense sort of smile. 'And how are you both feeling? Have you had any flu-like symptoms?'

Harry and Ginny shook their heads.

'Good. Well, as a precautionary measure, you should both take this Vaccination Potion.' The Healer pulled two little phials of clear, light-blue liquid from his robes and passed them to Ginny and Harry. As they both uncorked the phials and drank the potions, the Healer looked around, taking in the makeshift and unfriendly room. 'We can at least make things a little more comfortable for you in here whilst we undertake some more tests on your son.'

He withdrew his wand and Transfigured some of the rickety old chairs into huge squashy sofas, each one easily big enough to curl up and sleep in. Another flick of his wand saw sandwiches, croissants, and a fresh pot of tea appear on the refreshment trolley.

'Well, I must be getting back now,' the Healer said briskly, stowing his wand back inside his robes. 'I will be down to see you with any news as soon as I have it. And if there's anything else you need, do not hesitate to ask the Welcome Witch.'

Harry and Ginny thanked the Healer sincerely and were lost in their thoughts for some moments after he'd left.

'He'll be alright, Gin,' Harry murmured, as much to convince himself as his wife.

Ginny looked back at her husband properly for the first time since he'd arrived at the hospital. 'How do you know?' she asked, her voice hoarse with repressed emotion.

'I just know,' he replied firmly. He reached for Ginny's hand, and this time she did not pull away. He squeezed it gently, stroking her fingers with his thumb. The chestnut eyes found the green, and they held each other's gaze for the first time in many long, long hours. They would get through this, Harry thought. They would get through this together.

Suddenly, a blinding flash of light issued from one of the far windows, making both Harry and Ginny shield their eyes. Harry was about to reach for his wand when he realised the light was actually the unmistakable smoky form of a Patronus, racing towards him. As the glowing white shape grew closer, Harry recognized it immediately: it was a small dog, a Jack Russell Terrier. The Patronus belonged to none other than his best friend, Ron.

The little dog opened its mouth and in Ron's voice, said: 'It's Montenegro. We've trapped the suspect. We need back-up.'

Harry looked back at Ginny and saw the unasked question within her eyes. He'd been working too hard to let the Montenegro suspect just slip away now he was within reach. If they nailed him, he would provide them with leads for many other cases. And yet his son was critically ill, here in this very hospital. He needed to be here for his family. Harry shifted in his seat, torn between his two responsibilities, knowing that every second he delayed answering the Patronus was a delay to the biggest case of his life. Then, his decision made, he pulled out his wand in order to cast his reply.