Madam Pomfrey sat next to Harry's bed holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up. He had been seen by St Mungo's best healer and the diagnoses was bleak. Cancer was ravishing his small body and there wasn't much they could do. Magic and potions could only heal so much, and cancer was one of the diseases that neither could cure.
Madam Pomfrey summoned the healer when Harry started to stir. He would better be able to explain everything to the poor boy. There wasn't much they could do for him, but Harry was a fighter and she wouldn't allow him to give up until the very end.
Harry blinked his eyes rapidly as he tried to adjust them to the blinding white light. Light like that could only mean one thing...he was in the hospital wing.
"Mr Potter, how are you feeling?" asked healer Michaels.
Harry groaned and turned his head towards the unfamiliar voice. He was expecting to hear Madam Pomfrey scalding him about taking up one of her beds, not some unknown male's voice. "Where am I?" he croaked out.
"Harry, dear, you are at St Mungo's," said Madam Pomfrey, giving his hand a squeeze.
Harry tried to sit up, but a strong hand pushed him gently back down.
"Mr Potter, please don't try to get up. You are a very sick young man," said Healer Michaels. He was shocked when he was summoned from home to treat the famous Harry Potter. Cancer wasn't a common illness in the wizarding world, and he was the best and most knowledgable healer on the disease.
"I-I don't understand. Why am I at the hospital?" Harry tried to sit up, but once again he was stopped by the male healer. The man looked to be in his fifties, medium build with black hair that had a generous amount of grey streaks in it. He was wearing green healer robes, and he had very kind blue eyes.
"Harry, Professor Snape brought you to the hospital wing after you vomited blood and passed out. You were too sick for me to heal, so I brought you to St Mungo's," explained Madam Pomfrey.
"Oh god, Sirius," cried Harry, struggling harder with the healer. He had to get to his godfather before it was too late.
"Harry, you must calm down. Sirius' trial started over three hours ago. There is nothing you can do for him now," said Madam Pomfrey sadly. She prayed for Harry's sake that Sirius was found innocent. Harry had an impossible battle to win and he was going to need all the love and support he could get.
Harry fell back to the bed as tears silently fell from his eyes. If anything happened to his godfather, it would be his fault. He could still see Sirius' face as he pleaded with him to not be late. Sirius was going to hate him after this and not want him to be part of his family.
"Harry, can you please tell me how long you have been sick?" asked Healer Michaels. He was surprised that Harry hadn't went to a doctor earlier. His cancer was very advanced and he should have been sick with it for a long time.
Harry tried to focus on the healer, but his mind was still thinking about his godfather. "I-I don't know, two weeks maybe."
Healer Michaels frowned at the teen. Harry should have been showing signs of sickness way earlier then that. "You weren't feeling sick before that?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. Over the summer I got the flu and it never completely went away. Is there something wrong with me?"
Healer Michaels picked up Harry's chart and started flipping through it. "It says here that you were hit with an unknown curse while at the Ministry two weeks ago. Is that correct?"
Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, it was worse then the cruciotus curse."
Healer Michaels hummed thoughtfully, finally putting the pieces together. "Harry, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you have stage four cancer."
