Severus Snape looked quite the opposite of pleased when Harry Potter earned himself yet another detention. Of course, Harry looked even less pleased, due to the fact that he was covered in head to toe with slime. It wasn't his fault Malfoy had used a spell to break one of the ingredient jars on the shelf right above his work table.

      "Mr Potter," drawled Snape, arms crossed and drawing himself up to full height so that he towered over the small first year covered from head to toe in Merlin knew what kind of slime. "How is it that you so frequently waste good ingredients? I haven't the slightest idea how you managed to knock that jar off the shelf"-Malfoy smirked in Harry's direction -"but perhaps you can explain to me what happened tonight, seven-o-clock, my office. Don't be late."

     "Yes sir," muttered Harry dejectedly as the slimy purple substance slid down his fringe and dripped onto the dungeon floor. No sooner had he wiped the slime off his glasses than the bell rang.

      "Rotten luck mate," said Ron as they left for their next class.

     "That wasn't fair of him," Hermione sniffed as she followed Harry and Ron up the staircase and to transfiguration. "He knew just as well as anybody that Malfoy went and smashed the jar."

      "Yeah well, Snape's never fair," Ron said, dismissing Hermione's comment with a wave of his hand before turning to Harry. "Sure you don't have time to change?"

      "No, McGonagall will freak if I'm late again," Harry replied, cringing as he recalled Malfoy's last prank on him, which had caused him to be late to transfiguration by twenty minutes. The prank had involved his shoelaces and a very good sticking charm, and ended in him having to be rescued (however much he hated to admit it) by Professor Snape when he found him stuck behind a tapestry. It had been quite mortifying really, with his shoelaces stuck to the floor and pulled so tight he couldn't get his feet out of his shoes. And unfortunately for him, he had not known a cutting charm at that point (he had been sure to learn one soon).

      "I don't think McGonagall will like you sliming up the desks though," Ron said, shaking his head and stepping into the classroom, followed by Hermione and a slightly hesitant Harry.

      "Good morning class," began Professor McGonagall once the bell had rung. She became quickly distracted however by the goo covered student in front of her. "Potter, what on earth is that all over you?"

       "Er, slime?" Harry said, cringing.

      "And why, are you covered in slime?"

       "During potions a jar smashed all over me. I didn't have time to change because you said I couldn't be late again."

       "Go now Mr Potter," sighed McGonagall. "I suppose you can miss a little bit of class."

       "Thank you Ma'am," he said gratefully and slipped out of the classroom as fast as he could.

       As Harry walked through the corridors, silent but for the slosh of his slimy trainers, exhaustion fell upon his shoulders.  Sometime he wondered if he had a sticker on his head that said, "make my life as hard as possible". It was true he had friends here, and that he got more to eat and a nicer place to sleep, but sometimes he still felt like the whole world was up against him. Malfoy was even worse than Dudley, because Malfoy was much cleverer than Dudley ever would be.

     And then there was Snape; he was just a mystery. Harry had long accepted that Snape hated him, though he just didn't know why. Harry shook his head; it didn't matter. People just hated him, and there didn't seem to be any good reason for it. Even so, he got a strange feeling that there was something about Snape's hatred he was missing, like there was a reason, but he just didn't know it. 

  Harry sighed, forcing himself to push his worries aside. There was no sense in dwelling on things he could not change, so he might as well try and relax, and be happy with what he had. So he thought of his friends instead, and how much better it was to be at Hogwarts than at any school his Aunt and Uncle wanted him at. As usual, this shift in attitude did a great deal to cheer him up. 

        ***

        Of course, Harry should have known his cheerful mood wouldn't last long; he did have detention with Snape after all. He was surprised however when he arrived to find that he would not in fact be gutting toads or scrubbing floors. Instead he was to do something different.

     "You will be accompanying me down to the lower dungeons," Snape told Harry as soon as he entered his office, "as one of the dungeons needs to be cleared out for other purposes, and it is currently being used as storage. You are to follow me and do what I say when I say to do it. Understand?"

      "Yes," Harry replied.

      "Yes sir," corrected Snape, and he swept out of the office.

       "Yes sir," Harry muttered, following Snape.

       Harry did his best to keep up with his Professor's blistering pace, but had a difficult time. Professor Snape would occasionally exhale with an impatient huff and slow down, only to speed up round the next corner, black robe whipping out of sight before Harry was even close to rounding the bend.

      It was only after many minutes and many staircases that they reached their destination, or the corridor leading to their destination at least.

      "Blasted weather," Snape said mutinously, surveying the expanse of water in the slightly sunken corridor ahead.

      "Is there always water down here sir?" Harry asked curiously.

      "Occasionally, usually when we have a wet year," Snape replied, sounding slightly irritated.

      Harry frowned a second, and against better judgement asked another question.

        "Why Sir? It doesn't flood in any of the other dungeons."

      "Because Potter," growled Snape, "the charms down here are older and more difficult to keep functional due to the age of this part of the castle. Other portions of the castle have been added on over the years," he added impatiently at Harry's blank expression.  "But I wouldn't expect you to understand ..."

     "Oh," muttered Harry. "Er, how will we get across?"

    "Walk," spat Snape grouchily. And with that he stepped into the submerged area of the corridor, followed closely by Harry. "Step carefully. The floor is slightly uneven."

      Ripples spread out from the dark water where they stepped. The chill of the water seeped through Harry's trainers and over his socks, and the water grew deeper as they went. After a while the water was closing in on Harry's knees, which Professor Snape didn't pay notice too. Harry wondered how much deeper it was going to get, and dearly hoped he wouldn't have to swim. Luckily, the depth levelled out before the water could go too much above Harry's knees. Harry started to quicken his pace, though it was hard with the water so deep. He was keen to reach the other side however, as his legs were getting awfully cold. In his haste he lost his balance, his shoe having come across a ridge on a piece of stone. Harry teetered slightly and was about to fall backwards into the water when Professor Snape grabbed his arm to steady him.

     "Foolish boy," he scolded once Harry had regained his balance. "Did I not tell you to be careful?"

      "Sorry sir."

     Harry lowered his head slightly and continued through the cold water, writhing with anger. He would have gone more slowly if Snape wasn't walking so fast! He scowled.

     "Do not give me that look Potter," warned Snape.

     Harry was on the verge of sticking out his tongue at him but stopped himself just in time. Eleven year olds didn't do that. It was hard to remember sometimes. He'd only been eleven for a little over three months after all. Harry was brought out of his thoughts when he realised the water was now a little beneath his knees and they were only a few feet from the end of the corridor. The stones where the water lay over were still quite sunken in, but the dry portion of the corridor up ahead was not. The dry stones jutted out far from the sunken in area.

     Snape was able to climb easily onto the stones above the sunken ones. Harry however, struggled a fair bit to get up on them. It appeared there had once been a small flight of stairs, but three or four steps had cracked and crumbled into the water, making it rather hard for a rather short eleven year old to climb up.  Professor Snape looked impatiently upon Harry, who had his belly on the higher stones and his feet kicking about a little above the water. He felt utterly ridiculous, and rather hoped Snape wouldn't point out such a fact.

     "For the love of Merlin," Snape scowled, and grabbed the back of Harry's robe roughly, hoisting him up. Harry stumbled a little before regaining his balance.

       "Sorry Sir," Harry panted. Snape merely grunted.

         Harry glanced back upon the watery corridor. Quite suddenly his clothes were no longer wet, and it took him a moment to realise Snape had used magic to dry both their shoes and clothes.

     "Follow me, and do not touch anything unless I tell you to," said Snape and he rounded the corner and tapped a rusty metal door with his wand.

        The hinges protested, but eventually the door that they held so rigidly creaked open to reveal a room, not unlike Snape's classroom, but piled with all manner of curious objects and discarded teaching tools. Harry followed Snape as he wound through the piles of boxes and objects until they reached the front of the room.

      "We will start here, discarding things that are no longer useful," Snape said, looking a little weary as he surveyed the room.

     "What kinds of things are useful here?" Harry wondered aloud.

     "Not a lot," Snape replied dryly. "If it looks like something Binns would like, toss it in the rubbish pile."

      "Yes sir," Harry said, wondering in amazement if Snape had actually just made a joke.

      It was tedious work. Many of the things were strange artifacts or outdated potion ingredients. Snape hinted to Harry that it would be very bad if he smashed one of the jars over himself, as some were likely rotting. For once Harry agreed with Professor Snape. Throughout the dusty and tiring task, Harry had no sense for what time it was, as the only clock in the room was a strange enchanted carriage clock that belched out a cloud of smoke every so often, followed by a loud clunk. Harry doubted it was accurate, so he contented himself with guessing what the strange artefacts or outdated tools in the room were for. So, naturally, it was with some interest when he came upon a tarnished metal ball, about the size of a grapefruit and engraved with tiny runes.  There was a network of cracks across the surface, more accurately described as faint lines, though they did not look like they had come with age. The cracks were definitely deliberate. Harry fingered the worn curiosity, and wondered what it was for. So far a lot of the things in the room had appeared to have a use, but this seemed to be merely an ornament. And yet still, the ball looked as though pieces could come off, the way the lines were arranged.

     "Professor Snape," Harry said slowly, still examining the sphere, "do you know what this is?"

     Snape moved out from behind the workbench where he was sorting through old books and took a glance at the metal object Harry held in his hand.

    "No," he replied curtly. "It looks like rubbish to me."

    "I wonder what these runes say," Harry muttered, eyes alight with curiosity. His tone of voice appeared to have sparked a small amount of curiosity in Snape as well, as he came up behind Harry and looked down upon the metal runes as well.

    Snape scoffed loudly and said, "Potter, those are not runes. See, look"- Snape's spidery finger drifted along the metal-"there's a wizards hat, and a crudely carved owl."

     "Then what's that one?" Harry asked, thumb running over an oddly shaped curl of the metal.

     "Hmm," Snape said, plucking the ball up and squinting. His eyes widened a little bit and narrowed once more. "Unless I'm mistaken, it is ... a knotted rope."

     He handed the metal ball back to Harry, who studied it with rapt fascination. 

    "Why would that be on here?" Harry asked, to nobody in particular.

    "How should I know Potter?" said Professor Snape impatiently, still looking at the strange sphere. "Put it where it belongs."

     Harry made to comply, but his finger caught on a ridge of the object, and with a sudden hiss the fine lines across the sphere opened up and became wide cracks. At the same time a shimmering red powder exploded out from the center, spraying over the runes and covering both people standing near it.

     "Trust you Potter," cried Snape, sounding extremely exasperated as he waved his wand to remove the dust. It didn't work so well, so he resorted to the muggle method and brushed it off his robes by hand. "It appears to be harmless, though I would suggest you brush that off quickly. Assuming you can accomplish that without further mayhem!"      

     "I didn't mean to sir, honest!" he exclaimed, shaking the powder out of his hair.

     "What is done is done, but after this cease to examine the objects and simply toss them in the correct pile," Snape warned, waving his wand. "Luckily the powder was not poisonous,"-he pocketed his wand-"we could have been seriously injured!"

      "Sorry sir ..."    

       CLUNK!

        "Blasted clock!" growled Snape, throwing a spell at it and knocking it off the shelf with a crash and one final clang.  Harry jumped.

         By the time they were done Harry felt almost dead with fatigue. So it was with quite heavy feet and droopy eyes that Harry finally ascended to Gryffindor tower. There were still a few stragglers in the common room, as it was a Friday night. A few people gave Harry sympathetic looks, all of which he ignored, thinking of nothing but his four poster. He fell onto the covers, and soon after into a deep sleep. He did not ponder the strange sphere he and Professor Snape had found, nor the red powder that had gotten all over them. Instead Harry was lost in the fanciful ideas that are dreams, and for once had not a care in the world.

        ***

       It was with a slightly unfortunate turn of events that caused Harry to be travelling to the hospital wing Monday after lunch. For some time he had ignored the growing aches, shivers and tremors he had been feeling since morning, but he could only do so for so long. Harry was feeling so ill that his teeth were chattering one minute and he was sweltering under his robe the next. He soon found out however, that he was not the only person to visit the hospital wing at that moment, as the screens around one of the beds were drawn and Madam Pomfrey could be heard talking to someone. Harry waited quietly for her to come out, and took a slight interest in what he was hearing. He tried not to listen, but it was difficult in such a room that echoed so.

         "You know I have had vanishing sickness already," Snape replied. "I was really sick with it a couple years ago, and you cannot get it more than once. That is a fact Poppy!

      "Hmm ... certainly strange," said Madam Pomfrey. "Whatever you believe Severus, I am positive this is a rare or new kind of vanishing sickness. You exhibit all the symptoms ... and a few new ones."

     "That cannot be possible."

     "Yes it can Severus," replied Madam Pomfrey sternly to the rather irate Professor. "We cannot risk spreading this to the rest of the population."   

     "No, you don't mean-"

     "Yes I do," she said, sounding rather apologetic. "I cannot take the risk Severus; I need to put you into quarantine."

     "I am fine," Snape said crossly.

     "No you aren't. I am going to quarantine you and that is final. At least until we can find out more about this strain of vanishing sickness, if it even is a form of it."

      Harry heard a deep sigh and a slight amount of shuffling and watched as Madam Pomfrey led Professor Snape to a small door at the end of the hospital wing. Harry noticed that Snape looked dreadfully pale, more so than usual. Madam Pomfrey followed him into the room, and came out without him. When she returned to the main area she did a number of spells around the wing, most likely to attempt to eradicate the germs.

     "Mr Potter," she said, having finally noticed him. There were definitely disadvantages to being a first year; you had to speak up often to be noticed, which was something Harry found a little hard sometimes. "What is it that you need?"

     "I think I need a Pepper-Up potion," Harry told her, following Ron's advice. According to Ron a Pepper-Up potion could do wonders when you were sick, though it did make you hiss steam for a while. "I don't feel very good."

     "You do look quite peaky, but before I can give you anything you'll have to tell me your symptoms."

    "Er, I think I have a fever," Harry began. "I'm really cold, and then seconds later I'm hot."

    "Hmm, do you have any aches?" Pomfrey asked gently.

    "Yeah, my arms and back and neck.

    "Oh my, come behind the screen," she said, leading him behind the curtains around a bed.

    "I don't think it's serious, probably a cold or flu," Harry muttered, feeling slightly worried. His comment however, fell on deaf ears as Madam Pomfrey inspected his hands and face.

     "Can you take off your shirt for me?" she requested, feeling his forehead.

     "Yes Ma'am," Harry said, complying.

     "Oh dear," she sighed, examining his chest and stomach.

      "What's wrong?"  he gasped.

     "Spots," Madam Pomfrey said.

            Harry looked down at his chest and was shocked to see that small spots on his chest had disappeared. At the center of each spot you could not see his skin or anything beneath it for that matter. Around the centre of the spot the skin grew gradually less transparent.

     "Dreadful luck. I think you have the rare strain of vanishing sickness I diagnosed not a moment earlier," Madam Pomfrey told him as she shook her head in amazement. "I hope this does not mean it is extremely contagious. Well, I am afraid I will have to quarantine you too Mr Potter."

     "Not... not with Professor Snape?" Harry asked, almost pleading.

     "I'm sorry," Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh.

     Harry frowned, the thought of quarantine not really sinking in just yet. Numbly he let her lead him over to the room. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. Harry wondered if he had caught his illness during detention with Snape. Had Snape looked unusually pale during his detention? Harry pondered this question, thinking perhaps he had come into contact with the illness then, likely from Snape. But how could it be that he and Snape came down with symptoms the very same day, at relatively the same time?

      "Right in here dear," she said kindly to Harry, bringing him out of his thoughts and leading him through the doorway.

     Previous thoughts forgotten, Harry looked with interest at the transparent blue wall that stretched through the opening of the doorway. It looked almost like some sort of bubble. There was another door down a short hallway, this one with a pink bubble stretched to the edges of the door frame. Madam Pomfrey told him it was supposed to sterilize anything coming in or out of the area, and that she hoped it worked effectively for this illness. The cleansing bubbles felt strange on Harry's skin; it was almost as though he were being subjected to a large amount of static electricity. Once through the pink bubble Harry caught sight of a small ward with a fair sized window at the far end. Snape was standing by the window, looking out.

     "Poppy, just let me out," he said, sounding as though he was trying to cover up the chatter of his teeth. "I am fine."

     When Madam Pomfrey did not answer Snape whipped around, and caught sight of Harry, who froze.

     "What is he doing here?" breathed Snape, frozen where he stood and looking positively furious.

     "Mr Potter has come down with the same symptoms you have," Pomfrey said softly, almost as though she were trying to tame a wild animal. "There is no mistaking them, and so you two will have to share the ward for a while."

     "How long ... is a while?"

     "I do not know."

     "Madam Pomfrey," Harry whispered, glancing at Snape, who began to pace mutinously. "I don't think this is such a good idea."

     "I cannot help the situation," she said, showing Harry his bed. "Please, try to get along for the time being. I must contact Albus and St Mungo's."

     "St Mungo's?" Harry asked.

     "The wizarding hospital," Snape supplied, irritated.

     "Oh."

     Madam Pomfrey departed, leaving the both of them alone. Snape sat down on the edge of his bed, looking positively terrifying. He had a look on his face that gave Harry the urge to run. With much caution Harry observed him from the safety of his own bed, and saw that his Professor, like him, was not well at all. Snape's skin looked waxy, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He was shaking as well, but this was certainly not out of anger. With a slight jolt Harry saw that there were a few spots on one of Snape's wrists that had vanished, just like the ones Harry had on his chest and stomach. Fear seeped into Harry. Snape's figure gave a violent shudder, and he grew paler. It was with wide eyes that Harry laid back into his pillows and wondered if this illness had the potential to be lethal. He had forgotten to ask.