Allergies

There were moments, Harry would admit, that he had been extremely stupid. But not knowing what his allergy, was a new one. In his defense, his "family" wasn't always honest with him. And if he had known about his allergy a few years ago, he would have probably made a lot of excuses about his chores, or even what food he ate.

But now he had wished that his aunt and uncle weren't so stupid in that fact. Because now as he sat at the Gryffindor table, he knew that something wasn't right. His face was heating up, and for some weird reason, he had the sudden urge to vomit out everything he had eaten in the past 24 hours.

Not to mention the urge to itch, and itch, and itch some more. Rases were already beginning to appear along his skin, and his friends hadn't even known. To be fair, he couldn't have blamed them, with Ron's win happening the previous day, there wasn't a conversation where Ron didn't talk about it.

Of course, Hermione wasn't there. But that was to expected, with Ron and Lavender together, snogging whenever they could, it just annoyed Hermione to no ends. But at the moment, Harry wished that his best mate hadn't scared Hermione away. Because Hermione would've probably already dragged him to the hospital wing by now.

Harry would've walked there himself, but all it would take was one small step for him to become a heap on the floor. He looked around frantically, praying that someone would see his bright red face and hear his strangled breath.

But with Ron's loud voice and exaggerated gestures, nobody would even notice the poor chosen one, who was suffocating. There was only one choice, Harry slammed the table, almost immediately regretting due to the radiating heat coming from his bruised hand.

But it got Ron's attention.

The ginger-haired boy looked over with a shocked expression, his face was set in a rude manner. He just got to the good part of the story.

"Whoa mate, I get you wanted my attention but that's no way to go about it!" He exclaimed. His ego was far to big.

"R..o…n" Harry strangled. He brought his head towards the table, sweat dripped down his brow. Not to mention the heat radiating from his swollen face and hands.

"Harry?" Ron voice softened, "Harry? Mate are you alright?"

But when Harry didn't answer, Ron immediately got up and ran over. Turning his friend over, he gasped with pure horror. His best bud looked like a frog, his face was fat and puffy, his skin turning a light pale greenish color.

"Help! Anyone!" He called out, his panic quickly overtaking his sense of rationality. Pulling his friend towards the ground, he could finally hear how bad Harry had sounded. It was as if someone was trying rope around his best friend's throat, effectively strangling him.

Professor McGonagall got up with haste and ran over to check over her unconscious student. But once she got over there, there was almost a sense of dread. Harry was on his back; his face was all red and puffy and his breathing was extremely irregular.

"Sit him up," Professor McGonagall told Ron. But Ron had already fled the scene, hopefully he had ran to get Madame Pomfrey. But Ron was one of the most unpredictable people throughout Hogwarts. He could either be throwing up his guts from fear and worry or going to go get help. Hopefully it was the second option.

The probability of Harry surviving didn't seem far off, and without immediate medical attention, the chosen one could die within minutes. She summoned a stretcher and gently levitated Harry unto it. Rushing over to the hospital wing with the uttermost desperation, Professor McGonagall got there just in time to hear her student gasping for precious air.

"Madam Pomfrey!" She called out. Almost immediately Madam Pomfrey came rushing over with an EpiPen in her hand, Ron was in tote.

"Lie him over here," Pomfrey called out quicky, for time was of the essence. Professor McGonagall rushed over and laid Harry unto the bed.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked, he felt out of the loop. "Will anyone talk to me?"

But no one paid any attention to him, someone was dying as they spoke. Madam Pomfrey stuck the EpiPen in Harry's arm and summoned an oxygen mask on Harry's face. Harry begun to relax but a small gasping could be heard.

"Is he ok?" Ron asked softly. The event had scared him pretty badly.

"He will be," Madam Pomfrey answered. "With lots of rest and fluids, he should be on his feet in no time."

"What happened?"

"An allergic reaction, which isn't quite rare in many cases."

"That's weird, I've never heard Harry mention any allergy before."

"Neither have I," Professor McGonagall sighed. "But it's vital we figure out what it is."

"I'm just glad he is ok," Ron said quietly. He sat down and held his best friend's hand.

Madam Pomfrey was about to say something, but the doors burst opened before she could elaborated. Hermione came storming in with a bewildered look on her pale face.

"What happened to Harry?" She questioned.

"An allergic reaction, but to what…we don't know." Ron answered to which Hermione still refused to look at him.

"It's lemons," The young girl answered, "I remember Sirius saying something about it once."

Professor McGonagall gave a small glare. "And for what reason didn't you share that with us?"

Hermione shrugged. "I thought you knew."

"Well, at least we know now. I'll be sure to send some EpiPens with you Professor. Nobody can be too careful," Madam Pomfrey said as she walked over and grabbed the vital tools. She walked back over and handed them over.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall replied, "Now I must get going, I believe there's explaining to be done."

The nurse and two teens nodded, and Hermione walked over to watch over her fallen friend.