Aries Rising

The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains as Harry Potter-Black stirred in his bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. He barely had time to sit up before a wave of nausea hit him like a freight train. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he scrambled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet.

“Ugh,” Harry groaned, resting his head against the cool porcelain. His limbs felt weak, and his skin was clammy. The bite on his leg throbbed faintly, a cruel reminder of yesterday’s events.

By mid-morning, the sickness had only worsened. Every sip of water came back up, and his attempts to nibble on crackers ended the same way. He spent most of the day sprawled on the couch, a pale, sweaty shadow of his usual self. A bucket sat nearby, now half-full, and his body ached as if he’d run a marathon.

Regulus returned home that afternoon, his arms laden with bags from a trip to Diagon Alley. He’d left earlier, hoping to pick up supplies to restock the household after yesterday’s commotion. But as he stepped through the front door, the sight of his son immediately stole his breath.

“Harry,” Regulus said, dropping the bags unceremoniously onto the floor. His sharp eyes took in the scene: Harry lying on the couch, pale as a sheet, sweat beading on his forehead, and the pungent smell of bile wafting from the nearby bucket.

He rushed to Harry’s side, kneeling next to the couch and placing a cool hand on his son’s forehead. The heat radiating off Harry’s skin made his stomach twist with dread.

“Harry, love, what’s going on?” Regulus asked urgently, his voice trembling.

Harry cracked his eyes open, his green gaze glassy and unfocused. “Papa,” he whispered hoarsely. “I… I don’t feel good.”

Regulus’s heart clenched. He grabbed the bucket, quickly cleaning and emptying it with a flick of his wand before setting it back beside Harry. Then, raising his voice, he called out, “James! James, get in here!”

Within moments, James appeared in the doorway, his hazel eyes widening at the sight before him. “What happened?” he asked, hurrying to Harry’s other side.

“He’s burning up,” Regulus said, his tone tight with worry. “And he’s been sick. Look at him, James—this isn’t just a stomach bug.”

James crouched down, gently brushing Harry’s damp hair off his forehead. “Harry, can you tell us what you’re feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” Harry murmured, his voice barely audible. “My head, my stomach, even my leg… and I can’t stop throwing up.”

Regulus’s gaze darted to Harry’s leg, his mind racing. “The snake bite,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The venom—it must still be affecting him.”

James cursed under his breath, standing abruptly. “I’ll get Harrison. He’ll know what to do.”

As James disappeared to fetch Harrison, Regulus stayed by Harry’s side, his hand resting gently on Harry’s arm. “It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, more to himself than to Harry.

“Papa,” Harry whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “What about the baby? What if… what if this hurts them?”

Regulus’s chest tightened, and he leaned closer, cupping Harry’s cheek with his hand. “The baby is strong, just like you,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. “We’ll do everything we can to keep you both safe. I promise.”

Harrison arrived not long after, his healer’s bag slung over his shoulder. He quickly assessed Harry, his practiced hands checking his temperature, pulse, and the condition of the bite on his leg.

“He’s running a fever of 102,” Harrison said grimly, pressing a damp cloth to Harry’s forehead. “The anti-venom we gave him yesterday neutralized most of the toxin, but it seems like his body is struggling to process the residual effects. His immune system is overreacting.”

“What can we do?” Regulus asked, his voice tight with desperation.

“We need to bring his fever down and keep him hydrated,” Harrison replied, pulling out a vial of potion. “This will help with the fever and inflammation, but he needs rest and fluids. If he can’t keep anything down, I’ll have to use a spell to replenish his fluids.”

Regulus nodded, taking the vial from Harrison and carefully tilting it to Harry’s lips. “Drink this, sweetheart,” he said gently. “It’ll help.”

Harry grimaced at the bitter taste but swallowed the potion obediently. He winced as another wave of pain rippled through his body, and Regulus took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Papa,” Harry whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Regulus said softly, leaning closer. “But you’re not alone, Harry. We’re here, and we’ll get you through this.”

James knelt beside them, his hazel eyes filled with determination. “You’re going to be okay, Harry. We won’t let anything happen to you—or the baby.”

Harrison handed James another potion, this one designed to settle Harry’s stomach. “If he keeps this down, we’ll try giving him some water in a little while,” Harrison said.

Harry nodded weakly, taking the second potion with Regulus’s help. As he lay back against the cushions, the warmth of his family’s presence provided a small measure of comfort.

The hours stretched on, but gradually, the potions began to take effect. Harry’s fever dipped slightly, and the nausea eased enough for him to sip small amounts of water. Regulus remained by his side the entire time, holding his hand and murmuring words of reassurance.

As the evening wore on, Harry finally drifted into a restless sleep, his pale face tucked against Regulus’s shoulder. James and Harrison exchanged a glance, both relieved but still cautious.

“He’s stabilizing,” Harrison said quietly, packing up his supplies. “But it’s going to take time for him to fully recover.”

James nodded, resting a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this,” he said firmly.

Regulus looked down at Harry, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We will,” he agreed, his voice soft but resolute. “No matter what it takes.”

As the family settled into a watchful vigil, the love and determination that bound them together shone brighter than ever, a beacon of hope in the face of uncertainty.

The dim light of early morning filtered into the living room, casting soft shadows on the walls. Harry Potter-Black stirred on the couch, his body still heavy with fatigue. His head felt foggy, his limbs weak, but one thought pierced through the haze like a beacon.

He opened his eyes slowly, his green gaze darting around the room until it landed on his Uncle Harrison, who was sitting nearby with a healer’s journal in his lap.

“Uncle Harrison?” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse from sleep and illness.

Harrison immediately set the book aside, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m here, kiddo,” he said gently, his tone calm and reassuring.

“The baby…” Harry started, his voice trembling. “Is the baby okay?”

Harrison’s heart clenched at the fear in Harry’s voice. He moved to sit on the edge of the couch, his hand resting lightly on Harry’s shoulder. “The baby is fine,” he said firmly, his blue eyes steady as they met Harry’s. “I checked last night while you were sleeping. The potions and care we’ve been giving you are helping both of you.”

Harry’s breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t feel right, Uncle Harrison. My body feels… off.”

Harrison nodded, understanding the fear that gripped his nephew. “I’m sure, Harry. Your body is working overtime to fight off the venom’s effects, and that’s why you feel so drained. But the baby is safe. The fever and nausea are hard on you, but the potions are doing their job.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his hand instinctively moving to rest on his abdomen. “I was so scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “When that snake bit me… I thought I’d lose them.”

Harrison placed a comforting hand over Harry’s. “It’s normal to feel that way, but I promise you, we’ve done everything we can to protect you and the baby. And you’ve been so strong through all of this, Harry. You’re going to get through it.”

Harry nodded slowly, his fingers curling protectively over his stomach. “I’m trying to be strong,” he said softly. “But it’s hard. It feels like every time I think I’m okay, something else happens.”

“That’s because you’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Regulus said, his voice firm but gentle as he walked into the room. His sharp gray eyes were softened by concern as he crossed the space to kneel beside Harry. “You’re allowed to rest, Harry. You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.”

Harry glanced at his papa, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he admitted, his voice cracking.

Regulus shook his head, his expression softening further. “You are not a burden,” he said, his voice unwavering. “You are my son, and I love you. Taking care of you is not a burden—it’s what I’m here for.”

James appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of herbal tea and a small plate of dry toast. He smiled gently as he set the tray on the coffee table. “And he’s not the only one, Harry. We’re all here for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Harry looked between his dad and papa, his heart swelling with gratitude despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

James smiled, sitting down on the couch beside him. “You’ve been through a lot these past few days, but you’re tougher than you think. And if it helps, I think your stubbornness might be rubbing off on the baby.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his lips curving into a small smile. “They’re already giving me a run for my money, huh?”

“Seems like it,” James said with a grin, handing Harry the tea. “Now, drink this. It’ll help with the nausea and give you some strength back.”

Harry took the cup, his hands trembling slightly as he sipped the warm liquid. The herbal blend was soothing, the heat spreading through his chest and easing some of the tension in his body.

“You’re going to be okay,” Harrison said, his voice full of quiet confidence. “And so is the baby. One day at a time, Harry.”

“Thanks, Uncle Harrison,” Harry said, setting the cup down and leaning back against the cushions. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

As the morning stretched on, the family worked together to keep Harry comfortable. Regulus brought fresh cool cloths to lay on his forehead, James stayed nearby to ensure he was hydrated, and Harrison monitored his condition closely.

Though Harry still felt weak, the love and care surrounding him were a balm to his frayed nerves. The fear that had gripped him earlier began to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of hope.

By mid-afternoon, Harry managed to nibble on a piece of toast without feeling sick, a small but meaningful victory. He smiled faintly as Rodeo’s soft whinny drifted in through the open window, a reminder of the world outside waiting for him once he recovered.

Regulus noticed the smile and leaned down to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “You’re going to get through this,” he said softly. “And when you’re feeling better, Rodeo will be waiting for you.”

Harry nodded, his green eyes bright despite the lingering fever. “I can’t wait to see her again,” he said. “But for now, I think I’ll just rest here. With all of you.”

Regulus smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Harry’s face. “That sounds like a good plan.”

As Harry drifted off into a light sleep, the room fell quiet, the soft hum of familial love filling the air. Together, they faced the challenges of the day, their bond stronger than ever. And as Harry slept, his family watched over him, their hearts full of hope for the brighter days to come.