Chapter 46: 2nd September 1991, Monday: Part 1

During an unknown length of time, the fog and numbness were replaced with a sense of relaxation George hadn't felt before. All the sensations of pressure and anxiety he had built up over a year seemed to fizzle away as if they were just a part of his imagination. The hugest weight George didn't even realise he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. In its place were the sun's warmth against his face and an exceedingly comfortable bed beneath him. The strangest thing was that he perfectly recalled all of the horrifically bad events before going unconscious, but none of that appeared to matter anymore.

This wasn't due to being dazed or semi-lucid, on the contrary, George felt that his mind was clearer than ever before. He could think clearly now the blind panic had gone, he could see all obstacles in his way. Speaking of which, his stress-induced explosion during the Sorting Hat Ceremony would have made the next few days especially difficult for him, and yet, he felt no pressure. George felt like he could perfectly prioritise every single issue coming his way and deal with it accordingly. He didn't know how he was going to fix the mess he created, but he felt confident knowing that he would inevitably.

The new freedom that George was experiencing came with an unbelievably good sense of reassurance. Nothing seemed impossible to him anymore. This was not to be confused with his pride or inflated ego, he now felt like a machine that could complete its operations regardless of the overwhelming chance of failure. If George had been drunk or poisoned during the Sorting Hat Ceremony, then now he was on performance-enhancing drugs. His current state of mind could not be achieved naturally, eating a bucket of chicken legs and a good night's rest wasn't going to leave him with such a clear head.

George predicted that he would have awoken with barely repressed emotions with little hope of controlling them. Going into a food coma was just stalling the inevitable. Regardless of what had restored his sanity, George wasn't going to take this feeling for granted. Even though everything was going wrong, he was content lying in this comfortable bed feeling better than ever. George didn't know for certain, but he was pretty sure this is what dying and going to heaven would be like. Unable to come to a rational explanation for his current condition or situation, George's curiosity made him open his eyes and embrace his surroundings.

George wouldn't mind if he was greeted by Saint Peter at the pearly gates, death is but the next great adventure after all. He'd been saving up some questions for the big man in the sky for a while now, perhaps he could finally get some answers. Upon opening his eyes, George saw the blurry image of a high stone ceiling like one would expect to see in a church. His pupils adjusted to the light as he turned his head to see large arched windows letting golden sunlight flood into the huge room. Holy moly, he'd been joking to himself earlier, but this actually might be Heaven.

No matter where George was, lying in this bed wasn't going to get him any answers. He stretched his body causing all of his bones to crack simultaneously, the noise was loud enough to echo through the room. Well, that wasn't very appropriate for the Silver City. He would have to apologise to any angels that might have overheard his morning routine, he didn't want to be damned for all eternity on day one. On that note, George faintly heard the light footsteps from the opposite side of the room. He immediately lifted himself to see who it was.

Once George sat upright, he recognise the room he was currently in. The room looked like a nineteen-forties hospital that had been temporarily set up inside a church during World War two. The furnishings and equipment were of that era. There were several iron-framed beds with small blue curtains separating them, one of which George was currently lying in. Unfortunately this wasn't Heaven, instead, he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. George also appeared to be the only patient, which wasn't that surprising considering it was the first day of term. Even a school as dangerous as Hogwarts couldn't be having their students getting injured that quickly.

No angels could be found here, well... maybe one. George leaned a little further forward and saw a woman in a red and white nurse's uniform hidden behind a portable curtain. She was currently changing the bedding of one of the mattresses with her wand at an unprecedented speed. George would have to learn that bed-changing spell at some point, Amanda would love to see it in action. The nurse must have heard his joints cracking as she turned towards him, she appeared to be relieved to see George awake. She put away her wand and power walked towards him, her expression changed from relief to stern by the time she reached his bedside.

The middle-aged woman placed the back of her hand against George's head and then held her fingers against his neck for a few seconds. Her expression once again showed relief after performing these checks. George showed no resistance as he knew that she was only checking his temperature and blood pressure. Both of which he already knew had returned to optimal levels. His natural body temperature and heart rate were only slightly higher than a normal person's, it was nothing that would worry this nurse. If he hadn't transformed only a day ago, that might not have been the case.

The woman spoke in a serious tone, "you gave us all quite a scare last night. It's not every year that you get a student having a stroke during the Sorting Hat Ceremony."

George wasn't expecting to hear that, he wondered if he had misheard. A stroke was a pretty serious health problem, his patron hadn't mentioned any complications this severe before.

He allowed his confusion to show as he asked, "excuse me, but Mrs…?"

The woman finished his sentence for him, "Madam Pomfrey."

Being a minorly significant figure in his memories, George was already well aware of her name but he didn't intend on letting that slip. His mind was far too clear to make such a stupid mistake like that again. Now that George had his emotions put in check, it was obvious how compromised his past decision-making process had become. He was surprised that he would have fallen so low as to accidentally show off wandless magic and shrug it off like it was no problem. Yesterday was a blip in his otherwise perfect record. Today was going to be a fresh start and an opportunity to clean his filthy slate.

George nodded before calmly asking, "thank you Madam Pomfrey for clarifying. As I was saying, I believe you just said I had a stroke?"

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Pomfrey appeared to be quite impressed with George's manners. Her frown slackened as she returned to changing the bedding.

She began to explain whilst fluffing the pillows, "yes, quite a severe one a that. I'm glad to see that it didn't affect your manners. It's quite remarkable really, I was aware that a panic attack could induce a stroke but never have I heard of it happening to someone so young. Professor Dumbledore was extremely worried about your welfare, he personally escorted you to the hospital wing with me."

That wasn't what George was hoping to hear, Dumbledore being in close proximity to his unconscious mind could only spell disaster. Since he isn't being held in the dungeons, his fake mind must have been enough to trick Dumbledore. Either that, or that conniving old man is playing his cards close to his chest. George knew that he would normally find this news highly alarming, but inexplicably, he found himself still calm and collected. This amazing level-headedness definitely had to be due to an outside influence. It was most likely a drug that had been administered while he was asleep. The question was, what wonderful potion was it?

George decided that the best course of action was to simply ask, "Madam Pomfrey, I feel very relaxed at the moment. Do you know why?"

Pomfrey stopped what she was currently doing and turned back around. She didn't look very happy about what she was about to say. If a stroke was so nonchalantly glossed over, then what sort of horrific malady could evoke such a negative reaction? Had she given him the magic potion equivalent to heroin?

Pomfrey eventually gave George an answer after a few seconds of deliberation, "I want to make it clear that it isn't common practice at Hogwarts to administer potions that affect one's mind without their consent. That being said, you were an exceptional case. Your stroke was simple to cure, a few single incantations were able to do that whilst you were still in the Great Hall.

Your condition improved, but your body temperature and heart rate were still exceedingly high. It was the highest I had ever recorded. I would not have believed it was humanly possible until I saw you yesterday shaking around on the floor. I remembered your behaviour before you collapsed and noticed you were exhibiting abnormally high levels of anxiety, but I falsely assumed it was just nerves on your first day.

Then I recalled a patient I had four years ago who drank a potion called Essence of Insanity. It's an extremely dangerous potion that can induce hysteria which also happens to elevate blood pressure and heart rate. Although I checked your body for traces of that potion and found nothing, your symptoms were close enough that I decided to administer the same remedy. Hence I gave you a dose of the Draught of Peace."

Madam Pomfrey looked quite embarrassed to admit what she had done to George. She hesitated before saying every sentence as if she was putting off her guilty admittance. George quickly flicked through his memories to recall the potion she was referring to. The Draught of Peace was an extremely rare potion and was hard to make. The effects were to relieve all of the victim's anxiety and agitation, placing them in a state of bliss. It was also stated that many wizards and witches who had taken this potion were found to have become addicted after a single dose. The potion must only be given as a last resort to patients with chronic depression or anxiety.

George realised that this potion was responsible for his ability to think without emotional impediment. He had been forced to spend his life learning how to cope with impulses that were not his own. These animalistic tendencies were from a foreign source that co-inhabited his mind. George speculated that it was the side effect of turning into that monster every month, hence why the effects had been getting significantly worse over time. He coped with these impulses by indulging them on occasion, which included lying in bed frequently and eating large quantities of food. To a minor extent, collecting things such as books seemed to help as well.

This allowed George to operate at an acceptable level throughout his time at the Linwood household; he didn't feel it was interfering with his work. But now that George was relieved of these impulses, he had a better perspective of how wrong he had been. In actuality, he'd been dealing with slowly strengthening emotions throughout the past few months. Consequently, these emotions had been subtly affecting his actions to make unadvantageous decisions without him realising. Due to the plan remaining generally on track, he had neglected to monitor his mental well-being. This was a fatal error, George had effectively shot himself in the foot.

He had been under the impression that the negative impulses would only affect his ability to operate if left longer than eighteen months. This was according to what he had been told by his patron before he was dropped off at the orphanage. He found that to be woefully overestimated by at least six months, and because of the patron's unexpected schedule change, he needed to wait for treatment for another three months. This monumental hiccup meant George would have to remain at Hogwarts in his unstable state for another three months, which would not seem ideal given the circumstances.

The professors were already bound to be keeping a close eye on him from now on. The future was looking quite dire. The only solution would be to avoid any stimulus that may encourage his negative emotions or impulses to flare up. Then again, even that would be a temporary measure. George could even speculate that someone minorly irritating him within the next few weeks would be enough to cause a similar event to the Sorting Hat Ceremony. There would appear to be no easy solution to this problem, but Pomfrey had come along and offered a glimmer of hope.

George did not care about the negative side effects of this potion, the alternative of not taking it was out of the question. He needed to ensure a consistent supply of the potion for the next three months until the twenty-first of December. This had to become his top priority.

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