There's a steady beeping sound. There's a sharp pain in his right hand. There are whispering voices around him. He's ever so comfortable, despite whatever's in his hand.
Harry's eyes open, and he looks blearily around. The pain in his hand is connected to a tube, which is connected to a bag of liquid...
Harry sits up. He's in a Muggle hospital.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon come towards him.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Petunia asked.
Petunia never asked how Harry was.
"What happened?" Harry asked. "Why am I here?"
"Harry," Vernon said, "You have Leukemia."
"What's that?" Harry asked. He'd heard of it before, and knew it was bad, but couldn't quite remember what it was.
"It's a type of cancer." Petunia said.
Harry gulped. "H-how bad?"
"It's pretty bad." Vernon said. "It was caught quite late. You've had it for months."
"What are the chances of survival?" Harry asked.
Vernon and Petunia looked at each other.
"Very slim." Petunia admitted. "The doctor estimates... until, until June at the latest."
Harry nodded, trying to stay calm. "Can I still go to Hogwarts?"
Petunia nodded. "You'll just have to be careful. You'll probably spend lots of your time in the hospital wing."
"Harry," Dudley had appeared. "I'm really sorry for how we've treated you. Is there any chance of forgiveness, and starting over?"
Harry smiled, and nodded. "I'd like that."
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Hey.
I know I'm not a very good author, but I just thought I'd try this. Let me know how you like it. :)
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From my Deathbed
FanfictionHarry Potter, The boy who lived, is now the boy on his deathbed. Harry wakes up in the hospital in August before his third year. He has no memory of how he got there. And what's stranger; the Dursleys are being nice to him? Harry learns that he...
