Harry's Primary School Experience

Harry's Primary School Experience

Harry was sitting in his primary school class on a rainy Friday morning, listening to the teacher's explanations that didn't make much sense, at least not to him. 'The teacher seems a bit strange today,' Harry mused, trying to follow the teacher's conversation with his classmates. 'I don't know but something is just strange today. If just my head and my throat wouldn't hurt so much,' he thought, while a shiver ran down his back. He glanced at the teacher, who was just scolding Dudley, and Harry noticed wearily that her face turned into that of a fire breathing lion. Suddenly, he felt very hot. He took his glasses off, rubbing his aching eyes. 'Since when is the teacher breathing fire?' he wondered but relaxed when he heard the siren of a police car. 'Ah, they have probably noticed that there is a lion at the school and come to take it away,' he thought and concentrated on keeping his eyes open.

"Harry, the bell for the break already rang a few minutes ago; go out and play," a soft voice suddenly spoke to him.

Harry quickly opened his eyes and replied, "I'm sorry," his voice sounding hoarse and sore.

"Are you feeling all right?" the teacher asked, knelt in front of him, and took one of his hands into her own, cool hand before a slim, icy hand found its way up to Harry's forehead. "Oh my, you're burning up, Harry!" the teacher exclaimed, looking at the child with wide eyes. "Let me take you to the nurse, Harry. She will phone your relatives, so that they come and pick you up. Why didn't you tell me that you're ill?"

"I didn't know," Harry whispered back.

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"Hello, Mrs. Dursley? This is the nurse of Little Whinging Primary School."

"Oh, did something happen to my Dudley?" Petunia enquired, sounding horrified at the thought that the school nurse would phone her to report that Dudley was sick or injured.

"It's not Dudley, but your nephew Harry," the nurse answered, causing Petunia to let out a relieved sigh.

"Ah, that's all right then. Please tell him to come home to the usual time."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dursley, but your nephew seems to have a very high fever, and you have to pick him up immediately," the school nurse replied sternly, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Unfortunately, that's not possible since I have to leave now to meet with my husband, and we won't be back until late in the evening. Dudley will go home with his friend, and Harry has to come home by himself," Petunia quickly replied, cutting the conversation with the angry nurse.

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'Oh, Aunt Petunia will be so angry that the nurse phoned her,' Harry thought, while he sat on a chair, patiently waiting while Ms. Hara, the nurse, talked to his aunt.

Suddenly, the nurse knelt in front of him. Harry gave her a shocked glance. He hadn't even noticed that she had finished the phone call. "Harry," Ms. Hara told him kindly, "you have to lie down in one of the beds. Your aunt is too busy and cannot pick you up, and I cannot let you go home because I cannot leave you alone at home when you're so ill." She helped Harry into one of the beds and handed him pyjamas. "Here Harry, please quickly change, so that you will have it comfortable in bed for a few hours. Can you change on your own?"

Harry gave the kind woman a weary glance and replied, "Yes Madam." However, he was glad when the friendly nurse stayed and helped him since he was shivering so much that he really struggled with the pyjamas' bottom. He gratefully lay down in the bed. 'Oh, this feels so nice. It's much softer than my own bed in my cupboard,' Harry thought, mumbling a hoarse "Thank you" to the nurse before he closed his eyes.

"No Harry, you must not sleep yet," Ms. Hara told him in her soft voice. "Open your mouth please," she instructed him and stuck a thermometer into his mouth. 'Oh, this feels yucky and icy,' he thought, feeling very uncomfortable. While they were waiting, the nurse told him, "Harry, please think if there is anyone in your neighbourhood to whom I could take you until your relatives come back."

Harry already wanted to reply that he didn't know anyone, when he thought of Mrs. Figg, the strange woman with the cats, who sometimes babysat him. "Dere id Di..." he tried to speak around the thermometer, but the nurse stopped him immediately.

"It's all right, sweetie; you can tell me when the reading is finished," she told him kindly and took a wet cloth to wipe the sweat off his hot forehead and cheeks.

Harry gave her a grateful nod, when she finally took back the thermometer. "Thirty-nine point eight (one hundred and three point six)," she told him, frowning, and began to examine him. Harry gave her a frightened look when she placed a stethoscope on his chest to auscultate his lungs. "You don't have to be afraid, Harry," she told him softly. "Have you never been examined by a doctor?"

"No," Harry croaked, watching uncomfortably when she looked into his mouth and his ears.

Ms. Hara sighed. "You have a bad case of bronchitis, and you need proper care; otherwise you'll wind up in the hospital with a lung infection very shortly. Did you know anyone, who would be able and willing to look after you?"

"Perhaps Mrs. Figg; she's a neighbour and she sometimes babysits me when the Dursleys take Dudley somewhere," Harry croaked. "But please don't contact her; I'll be fine at home. I'm sorry for being such a burden."

The nurse gave him a horrified look. "No, Harry, you are - not - a - burden. And you're very ill and need to be looked after. Let's wait until your teacher comes in at the end of the last lesson, which will be in two hours' time, and then one of us will go and ask her before we take you anywhere." She handed him two small pills and a glass of water. "This one is against the infection, and the other is for the fever, Harry. Please make sure to drink all the water together with the pills."

Harry obeyed, and Ms. Hara took the glass back commending him in her soft voice, "Well done, Harry. Now lie down and try to sleep for a while please."

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Harry woke up to his teacher's upset voice. "How can that woman say such a thing? I can tell you he's absolutely neglected at home, the poor child. Look at how skinny he is; probably they don't even feed him properly."

The nurse followed her colleague's finger, taking in the child's white face. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his hot forehead while his cheeks looked feverishly red. "All right; I agree that we should look a bit into this, but for now we have to find someone to take the child in; otherwise I'll stay here with him overnight. I can and I will not let him go back to an empty home."

"All right, I'll go and speak to this Mrs. Figg. Do you know exactly where she lives?"

"No, you have to ask Harry. I must wake him up anyway in order to take his temperature again and give him his medication," Harry could hear Ms. Hara reply. An instant later, he felt that someone sat down on the edge of his bed. "Harry?" Ms. Hara called him softly.

Harry felt too bad to open his eyes but whispered, "She lives at number nine, Privet Drive."

"Very well, Harry; thanks for the information. I will go and talk to her," the teacher promised and quickly left the room.

"Harry, can you please open your eyes for an instant?" Ms. Hara asked, and Harry hesitantly complied, mumbling, "Hurts."

"You're obviously worse than before," the nurse stated worriedly, peering into the child's glassy eyes before she placed the thermometer into his mouth again. While they were waiting, she put a cold compress around Harry's legs in order to lower his temperature, glancing concerned at her wristwatch. "40.6," she sighed, watching the flushed spots on his cheeks and the sweat dribbling down from his forehead. "I have to consider taking you to the doctor," she told Harry, bathing his hot face in concern.

'I hope she can make me better; I feel so bad,' Harry thought, feeling absolutely awful. Suddenly, he felt something cold pressed against his lips, and greedily drank the cold water the nurse let him drink much too slowly for his liking.

Finally, Harry's teacher returned, and the nurse gave her an expectant look. "I spoke to Mrs. Figg, and she told me she would send someone to pick up Harry as soon as possible," the teacher told her colleague.

"That's good because he has a fever of more than forty (one hundred and four) degrees," the nurse replied.

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness, captured in fever induced nightmares. 'There are two lions talking to each other, but I can't understand what they say. Do lions talk a different language?' he mused. However, suddenly, one of the lions started to breathe fire at him. 'Oh, not again,' he thought annoyed. 'I'm already so hot. Can't you breathe ice for once?' he asked the lions and suddenly felt a chill creep over his body, causing him to shake violently.

Harry's feverish mind didn't notice the doors to the infirmary being flung open, nor did he see the tall man in black clothes approach the teacher and the nurse. "I have come for one Harry Potter," a silky voice suddenly penetrated his foggy mind.

Harry lazily opened his eyes that wouldn't open very wide due to his high fever and gave the unknown man a weary glance.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" Ms. Hara asked sternly, taking in Harry's expression.

"I'm his real father," the silky voice replied softly, approaching Harry's bedside at the same time. The man quickly touched Harry's hand with the ring he wore on his right hand and mumbled something.

Harry felt a slight pull behind his navel, and had he felt bad before, he felt absolutely horrible now. The whole world seemed to be turning around, and he started to whimper silently and put a small thumb into his mouth to calm himself and to prevent his teeth from chattering.

Finally, the travel came to an end, and Harry felt himself being put down on the softest bed he had ever lain on. Suddenly, he felt a strange, tingly sensation gliding his body up and down and curiously opened his eyes. 'This feels funny, but it also feels very normal,' he thought, looking around for the lions. He could only see one lion, the one that was just going to sit down on the edge of his bed. "My poor child; how did you get so sick?" the soft, silky voice from before spoke to him, but Harry felt too bad to even think of an adequate answer.

All of a sudden, he felt something cold pressed against his mouth and quickly opened his mouth and swallowed, nearly jumping in fright when he realized that it was not water but a very strange liquid he was gulping down. However, before he could complain, he noticed that he suddenly felt much better. He felt how the pain slowly receded and how his burning skin cooled down comfortably. Harry lazily opened his eyes that were still not back to their usual brilliant green and gave his saviour an exhausted smile before he closed his eyes again and drifted off to a much needed sleep.

The man however stayed at his side and kept talking to him. "The Headmaster wanted to keep it a secret. But after all that your school teachers told me, I'm not going to leave you with your relatives. You are my son, and I can prove it with the memory Lily put into the Pensieve and with the blood potion that will make you look like you are supposed to look - like a miniature version of me combined with Lily's green eyes. Yes, you're my son, and I will claim you as such, Harold Severus Snape."

I am not a native speaker of English. So please excuse my mistakes!

All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.