Harry did not know it, but he thrashed and whimpered in his sleep that night. Far from screaming, he only woke Mrs. Weasley who lifted him into her arms, still wrapped in the soft blankets. She sat in the rocking chair, holding him close and proceeded to hum softly.
Harry calmed in his sleep, either by Mrs. Weasley’s song or by the sound of her heartbeat and his thumb moved to his mouth. Mrs. Weasley found this fairly odd and decided to ask Hermione if he had done this before.
She laid Harry on her bed and changed his wet Pull-Ups. He stirred only slightly, no doubt from the cold night air but remained asleep. Mrs. Weasley re-wrapped him in the blankets and put him back to bed. He rolled onto his side, the thumb still firmly between his lips. Mrs. Weasley went back to bed herself, with a small smile. She rather enjoyed having a small child to care for again.
Harry awoke the following morning, cold and shivering. It was still dark and he quickly pulled his thumb from his mouth. It disturbed him that it had been there as he pulled the blankets tighter. Still cold, he tried repeatedly to warm himself and adjusted his blankets several times. All of this had no affect and he finally decided to just try and go back to sleep. He had not even realized he had begun to cry audibly until Mrs. Weasley lifted him, the blankets left behind.
“What’s wrong Harry,” she asked, cradling him in her arms.
“It’s cold,” Harry shivered. Molly carefully wrapped Harry in the blankets, so he would be warmer. She put him back in the cradle but he continued to shiver. So she got another blanket and laid it over him.
“Are you feeling alright,” Mrs. Weasley asked when Harry continued to shiver. Harry nodded and curled up, effectively stopping his shivers. “I want to take your temperature, anyway.” Mrs. Weasley turned on some lights and left.
Harry stretched his legs in an effort to get more comfortable but started shivering again. Molly returned and placed a thermometer under his tongue. “Now you leave that there or I’ll get the other one.” Harry had no desire to remove his hands from the warm blankets, so he could not move the thermometer anyway.
Mrs. Weasley paced the room for the duration then took the thermometer from Harry’s mouth. “Well, you do have a slight fever, like I thought.” She left again, coming back with a bottle of medicine potion and a spoon. “This will help you sleep and lower your fever, if it’s just a cold.” She gave Harry a spoonful of potion.
“Yuck!” The taste was absolutely horrible. It was worse than anything he had ever had. It did work quickly though. After coughing over the taste he laid back and fell to sleep instantly. Mrs. Weasley sat the potion on the nightstand and went back to bed again.
When Harry next awoke, his entire body itched horribly. He sat up in the morning light, no longer cold and began to scratch furiously. Wherever he scratched, his body felt like it was burning. Unable to comfort himself he began whining as he reached under his pajamas, continuing to scratch.
“What’s wrong Harry? Why are you scratching like that?” Harry’s whines and moans had woke Mrs. Weasley again. Harry only continued to scratch at his stomach and back. Molly bent down, pulled the blankets down and pulled off his pajama top. Harry was entirely covered, including his arms, in hundreds of tiny red splotches.
“Stop scratching Harry! It’s the Chicken Pox, you’ll only make it worse!” Harry did not stop his scratching. He had not heard her, nor did he care about anything but stopping the itching. Mrs. Weasley stood him on the floor and pulled the rest of his pajamas off. His legs too were covered in the same red blotches. Only his face seemed free of the red marks.
Harry continued to scratch, tears in his eyes and stomping his feet up and down. He was in great discomfort. “Calm down Harry. Let me change you and we can do something about your itching.”
Harry stopped, for the first time aware of what Mrs. Weasley had said. He looked down, past his red-spotted body to the wet Pull-Ups he was wearing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wet in my sleep.”
“That’s alright,” Mrs. Weasley assured, lying Harry on the bed. “I think it’s the fever you have.” Harry did not notice he was changed into another Pull-Ups; he was absentmindedly scratching himself again, thinking.
“But I already had the Chicken Pox. I thought people only got them once.” Mrs. Weasley was looking through his pajamas.
“That’s true. How old were you when you had them, dear.” Mrs. Weasley returned with a dark blue footed-sleeper.
“I was six, I think. I remember I had to miss school. But I still don’t understand how I got them again.” Mrs. Weasley had zipped up the sleeper and he sat up on the bed. He continued to scratch, but the thick fleece made it useless. He started whining again. “I’m itchy.”
“It’s best that you can’t scratch. I think you got these again, because Professor Dumbledore’s spell made you younger than six.”
“That’s not fair! I hate it. I hate him!”
“Now you know that isn’t true. Wait here while I go wake the others. Then we can go get some breakfast.”
“Ok,” Harry muttered, he was actually hungry, but his attention turned back to the itching the moment Mrs. Weasley left. He quickly unzipped his new pajamas and reached his hands inside, tearing at his flesh. The soothing the scratching brought only lasted until it was replaced by pain. He did not care and continued to relieve the itching.
By the time Mrs. Weasley returned, Harry had scratched much of his chest raw. His tiny nails had begun to draw blood. “Harry! Stop that, right now!” She rushed over and pulled his hands out of his pajamas then zipped them again. “I told you not to scratch.” She carried Harry down to the kitchen. He had begun crying, both from the inability to scratch himself and the pain he had already caused himself.
Harry sat at the table, whining crankily, while Mrs. Weasley made breakfast. A series of sneezes soon announced Hermione’s entrance. She too was still in pajamas and a robe. Ron followed her, coughing and looking tired. He was wearing a housecoat over his pajamas and sat down, only to lay his head on the table. Ginny was the only one to walk in fully dressed and looking healthy.
After breakfast Mrs. Weasley ordered Hermione and Ron back to bed to rest. She then turned to Ginny and Harry. “Ginny, could you watch Harry for me? I have to go out for some medicine. Somehow Hermione and Ron both got the flu. They’ll be fine until I get back, and I don’t want you to get sick, so just take Harry back to my room and stay there.”
“Alright,” Ginny said, picking Harry up. He was cranky and itchy, unable to do anything about it. “I can’t get what he’s got, can I?”
“Don’t worry dear. He’s just got the Chicken Pox. You already had them when you were a baby. And Ginny, don’t let him scratch.” Ginny carried Harry up to Mrs. Weasley’s room and the two sat on the bed.
Harry started to shiver as he sat on the bed. He yawned widely, but continued to whimper while scratching futilely at his sleeper. He reached for the zipper again, but Ginny stopped him. “Maybe you should try to sleep Harry.” Ginny carefully wrapped Harry in blankets and laid him in the middle of the bed. He stopped shivering, but now cried because he could not scratch at all.
Ginny began to sing softly, which calmed Harry. His eyelids slowly closed as his yawns became more frequent and he was soon asleep. Ginny made sure he was asleep, then went to get a book and returned. While Harry slept, she read in the rocking chair, looking over her book occasionally to check on him.
Harry did not wake up until noon. He immediately threw off his blankets and started scratching. Ginny came over and stopped him by holding his arms. Harry tried to jerk his arms free but Ginny held tightly.
“Mum got you something to stop the itching, but you have to promise not to scratch while I rub it on you.” Harry nodded and Ginny unzipped and removed his pajamas. “Uh-oh. It looks like your wet again.”
Harry turned red and felt his ears burning. He hated the itching and fever anyway, but now they made him wet in his sleep like a baby. He instantly resisted when Ginny moved to remove the wet Pull-Ups. “I’ll change myself.” He was too distracted to worry about scratching himself.
“Alright, but I already had to change you once when you were sleeping.”
“What?” Harry turned even redder. “Why didn’t you wake me or get your mum?”
“I tried to wake you, but your didn’t get up, and mum’s taking care of Ron and Hermione. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
Ginny had let Harry go to the bathroom and change himself. He was very embarrassed. He did not want Ginny to see him naked, especially as he was now, but she had. He came back, still red and laid on the bed. Ginny took a potion bottle and began to rub its thick, cool contents onto Harry’s skin. The salve worked quickly and as Ginny zipped Harry’s pajamas, his skin already stopped itching and felt cool.
“Are you hungry yet?” Ginny was sitting next Harry now; he was no longer red, but still embarrassed. He nodded his head and Ginny stood up. “Stay here, I’ll go make us some lunch.” She put some toys on the bed with Harry and left.
Harry was lazily playing with the toys when Ginny returned, a plate of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice in her hands. The two ate silently then Ginny was nice enough to play with Harry, with some of his toys.
The two played for several hours. As dinnertime approached, Harry’s skin became suddenly inflamed again. He had the urge to rip his skin off and had already unzipped his pajamas before Ginny stopped him. She removed the sleeper and pinned his arms above his head. Harry just cried, unable to do anything. Ginny applied more of the salve, one-handed to ensure Harry did not scratch. When she finished with his chest, stomach and arms, she flipped him over, pinning his arms under him, so she could apply the potion to his back and legs faster, with both hands. Harry’s legs kicked and flailed until she was done; he was screaming all the while.
Mrs. Weasley had heard Harry’s screams, echoing through the entire house and came running into the room. “What’s the matter? What happened?” Ginny explained what had happened while redressing Harry, who was still crying. “Well, dinner is almost ready, if you want to come downstairs now.”
Ginny lifted Harry into her arms and followed her mother downstairs. Ron and Hermione came too, both looking noticeably better. Mrs. Weasley had them sit at the opposite end of the table however. Harry had fully regained his appetite from the previous day and inhaled his food.
Ginny was still charged with caring for Harry after dinner. She kept him occupied with his toys for the evening.
Just before nine, Mrs. Weasley called Ginny over to the bedroom door. “Ginny, I’ve been around Ron and Hermione all day, and I don’t want to get Harry any sicker. Do you think you could take care of him tonight for me?”
Ginny hesitated a moment before speaking. “Sure, mum. What do I need to do?”
“Well, you’ll need to start by giving him a bath now, and putting him to bed. Then, and you can sleep in here too, I’ll sleep in another room, you need to make sure he’s all right through the night. This could be helping him back to sleep if he wakes up scared, or some other things.”
“Ok, I can do that, but I don’t think he’ll like me giving him a bath. He got really embarrassed and upset when I had to change him earlier.”
"Well, tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t want him with the flu too. Oh, if you find him sucking his thumb, could you let me know?” Ginny nodded, with a puzzled look and went back to Harry.
“Harry, mum says it’s time for your bath.” Harry did not protest as Ginny picked him up. He thought she was taking him to Mrs. Weasley. When she was the one filling the bathtub however he threw a fit.
“No way Ginny! You’re not going to bathe me! Where’s your mum?” Ginny explained the situation to him as the bathtub filled. “I’ll bathe myself then! I don’t want you to see me!” He was turning red again.
“I told you, I already did. Besides, it’s not like I’m actually seeing you naked. Mum says I have to do it.” Harry crossed his arms and refused to cooperate. Ginny closed the tap and stood up, apparently getting an idea.
“Fine, I’ll go get my mum, but she’ll be mad at you. You already made her mad yesterday, she might spank you.” Harry did not see Ginny’s grin; she had no intention of telling her mother.
“Alright, alright, but make it quick.” Harry was undressed and bathed by Ginny. She then dressed him in another sleeper she found, this one red. After he brushed his teeth, Ginny laid Harry on the bed and applied more of the potion to his skin. She put him to bed and went out to the hall, where she could continue to read, and still let Harry sleep in the dark.
Ginny was thankful when the morning light woke her. Thankful that Harry had slept peacefully through the night. She did not wake him until she had applied more potion to his skin.
The following days were much like the prior. Ron and Hermione recovered much sooner than Harry did, and Mrs. Weasley did not get sick as she had feared. Ginny continued to help her mother with Harry though. Mrs. Weasley went back to tending to him before bed and during the night, but it was Ginny who looked after him during the day; she had become better at timing when to apply the potion so Harry did not itch again. It was Ginny who made sure he did not scratch. It was Ginny who played with him.
Once better, Hermione and Ron occasionally played too, but they began to spend more time apart from the others. Harry had an idea what they were doing, but did not really care.
Harry was sleeping through the nights now. He was still having nightmares, but did not wake up anymore. As he got better, he stopped having accidents too. After five days, he was completely free of the Chicken Pox and things settled back to normal. He tended to spend most of his time with Ginny, who did not seem to mind his occasional tantrums or the times when he just let out a good cry. She became better than Hermione at calming him. Fortunately, he continued to eat normally and did not get into any more trouble.
Harry went through his usual nighttime routine on July 30th, completely unaware of what tomorrow would bring. In fact, he had not kept track of the date since he went to live with Hermione. Even if he had known, he would not have expected what was coming.