**************************October 2013*****************************

“Fifteen more cases yet today! Ten yesterday and eight the day prior! We are in contact with the best of our hospitals, consulting with the best healers, living, ghost and portrait! Albus, the Ministry is going to shut us down and rightly so! We have no idea what we are dealing with and even with Severus, and the local apothecaries, we aren’t able to brew enough pain potions to at least give a bit of relief from the symptoms! Severus even has his bright, or as he states, acceptable, advanced students helping to brew pain relievers but it’s not enough!”

Albus Dumbledore gravely peered over the rim of his spectacles at the mediwitch. He knew she was right, but he dearly wished that she was not. Hogwarts had seen so many tragedies in her life that even a temporary shutdown felt like failure. He knew, though, that the students’ needs must be paramount to his own feelings.

The seasoned mediwitch stood pacing in the Headmaster’s office. She was taking a much deserved break from the hospital wing after pulling a twenty-four hour shift straight. Severus was currently watching the children as he too had completed mediwizard schooling as part of his potionmaster training. Madam Pomfry could only count her blessings that each child was unconscious and thus not able to irritate the volatile wizard. And he, them.

The Headmaster opened his mouth to retort on the news when a silvery doe swept into the circular room. “Two cases just reported from Gryffindor Tower. It has spread to all houses.” The doe spoke in Severus’s detached tones as it bowed its head to the headmaster, then Pomfry.”

Albus sighed. There was no way now that the Ministry would not shut down the school. Not with the disease rapidly spreading. Unless it was dealt with quickly and that didn’t seem to be the case. He looked at the list floating in the air of students who were currently in the hospital wing, watching as it updated with two more names. His face grew even grayer than it was a moment ago. This was even worse than he had thought.

“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.” This certainly complicated things. “Tell Severus I need to speak to him immediately.” He glanced regrettably towards the weary mediwitch. “Madam Pomfry, I need you to return to the hospital wing and relieve Severus. There is a matter of great importance I must discuss with him.” The doe nodded again and scampered out of the room.

Severus was not going to like his news. Albus knew without a doubt that the man would absolutely abhor the announcement. The old wizard was sure that the Slytherin would put up a tantrum worthy of a two year-old. However, Albus also knew that the man would fold and do as his mentor wished. The potions master owed him that much. Owed HER that much.

“Thank you for the update Madam Pomfry; I do appreciate your hard work, very much so.” He smiled at the witch, politely excusing her.

                                                            ***NIN***

Severus could not believe his luck. His rotten, horrible luck. He guess he should have known that one or more of the Golden Trio would catch the disease and he have to take care of them. Ha! Knowing the boy’s reckless tendencies, Potter probably INVITED the disease to hit him! And knowing the Granger girl, she probably tagged along for the ride to watch her friend’s neck! The Slytherin knew it would only be a matter of time before the redhead sidekick would be convulsing in the hospital wing as well. The Weasley boy hated to not be included in anything. Somehow Severus guessed that the boy was dunderheaded enough to be insulted if he did not join his friends.

At least the disease had left the two Gryffindors comatose, having rendered them unconscious within the first fifteen minutes upon becoming symptomatic. He could not stand students in general, Gryffindors in particular, and the Golden Trio in exact. They risked their necks, lives, getting involved in things that they need not to be involved in. Severus recalled the previous year, when the Trio had dared to defy the school administration and outsmarted several riddles meant to stump the smartest of grownups. Their recklessness had almost cost them their lives.

No, he didn’t care about them, but he’d be damned if he let Lily’s last gift go to waste. He would work tirelessly to find a cure, if indeed there was one, and help save the children. Even if he only got scorn and never any thanks. He didn’t need accolades anyways; he worked hard to project the “dungeon bat” image he was so associated with.

For the third time in an hour, he walked to each of the many students’ beds and double checked their vital signs on the floating scrolls, magical counterparts to muggle monitors. A few students needed extra doses of fever reliever and he crossed over to the potions cabinet. He glanced at the patient laying comatose in the bed closest to the cabinet. Potter, the damn child was shivering from the fever that befell him.  “You’ll feel better in a moment,” he promised the unconscious brat as he unlocked the cabinet and retrieved the bottle of potion. It was the last one in stock; Severus could only hope that the shop would not run out of ingredients. He had sent for an order early in the morning but had not received it yet.

He set to doling out doses of the potion, once again noting the pale green shades of all the students who lay sick in the wing. The medicine and any others that they were being given were only meant to treat symptoms, not cure the disease. He honestly did not know what they were going to do.

                                             ***NIN**

“You wanted to see me, headmaster?” Severus questioned as he strode into the Headmaster’s office. He noticed Albus reaching for the bowl of lemon drops that he kept on his desk. Instantly, Severus’s guard rose. He’d been around the older wizard for a long time now, and knew Albus only reached for the bowl when he was about to impart some bit of unfortunate news. Severus long suspected that the lemon drops contained a calming drought masked into the sweet.

“Lemon drop, Severus?” Albus offered the sweet as the Slytherin knew he would. He shook his head in the negative. “Ah, oh well.” The headmaster gestured to the overstuffed scarlet armchairs and Severus felt dread seep into his veins. The man only invited someone to sit if he knew for certain that there would be an argument.

“With no disrespect intended, Headmaster, I really need to get back to brewing and attempting to procure some ingredients for the many potions the students need. So, if you would tell me whatever news you intend to drag out, quickly I would appreciate it.” He spoke, not quite a sneer, but close enough that Albus sighed.

“Severus, as I am sure that you recall, each of the students in the wing have had to have a parent or guardian to sign off on their stay in hospital.” He held up a scroll. “We have run into a snag, a bit of a quandary if you will.” The Slytherin glared, urging Albus to continue. “It seems that young Harry Potter’s guardians, the Dursley family will not have anything to do with the child. They wrote back to our missive, ‘While he’s at your school, he’s your brat and do not disturb us again.’ Severus, he needs someone to act a medical liason for him.” Albus began.

“No. Absolutely not.” Severus knew where this was going. “I will not go beyond my duties of those of a teacher and healer for the brat.” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he must look every bit of the pouting toddler or dramatic teenager.

“Severus, need I remind you of your promise to-“ Albus began.

“Do NOT say her name!” Severus growled. He stood and in his angry, the lanterns flickered. “I’m well aware of my promise to her. I promised to keep an eye on her child, to keep him alive, which I am doing!”

“Severus, dear Severus, do you not think that she’s watching from afar, saddened that her best friend will not have an more active role her son’s life?” Albus threw the last dagger, the one sure to work.

“Very well Headmaster, I’ll do as you say.” Severus sighed as he nodded and took his leave.

                                                            ***NIN***

Ron Weasley sat in the most unlikely of places. He knew  no one who might be looking for him would find him where he was. Especially since Hermione was ill and not with him, and Harry was also sick, and not there to encourage him to just listen to Hermione and go there. Ron Weasley was in the library. What’s more, he was in the library, with books. He was frantically looking through many encyclopedias of magical illness. He knew that people considered him a dunce, but he would be damned if he let his friends die. Ron would rather be in the hospital wing visiting with Harry and Hermione but as the wing was closed off to anyone not sick, he was unable to do so. So he did the next best thing. Hermione would be proud of him.

This year had already been so weird. Not that last year was normal-or perhaps it was normal at Hogwarts to have a possessed teacher with Voldemort attached to him try and kill students. Ron didn’t exactly know what passed for normal at the school, having only been in his second year. He didn’t recall his brothers ever in life or death situations at school though except minor spells gone wrong or quidditch.

His second year already consisted of busting Harry out of house arrest, an arrogant teacher and being punched out by a tree. And now his friends were sick, maybe even deathly sick. He had written to his mum the night before and told her of the illness spreading around school. He dreaded to think of what she’d think if she knew her adopted son and daughter had caught the illness. Harry and Hermione might not be really family, but they were family in a way that mattered more than blood. His mum would be heartbroken. He didn’t know much about Hermione’s parents, other than they were muggle teeth healers, but he assumed they cared for the girl. Experience told him though that the Dursley family would probably be ecstatic if Harry kicked off.  

A soft thud caught the redhead’s attention. “Who’s there?” It wasn’t curfew yet, but he was on edge of being caught as he had gotten Lockheart to ‘autograph’ a pass for the restricted section. He had said it was for Hermione. Any teacher with brains would see right through the excuse.

“It’s just me.” A soft voice spoke from the aisle behind him. He recognized the voice of a fellow second year. Not that he would spend time with this particular student, he was a SLYTHERIN. Nothing good ever came from Slytherin and every one of them should never be trusted. Still, his curiosity was piqued because he had not expected anyone to answer his demand. Ron got up from the hard wooden bench and walked to the aisle where the other student was.

“What are you doing here?” Ron scoffed as he saw the student had a pile of books to match Hermione’s level of interest. He had never seen this student in the library, but then again, the Gryffindor spent as little time as possible in the room.

“Not that you need to know,” the student drawled in an accent that Ron had yet to figure out, “but I’m trying to do the same as you, I suppose. You ARE best friends with two of the affected. My house is almost completely empty from it.”

“Cheese, still, you’re a Slytherin, not that you care about anyone else!”

“It’s Chase. And Slytherin doesn’t mean void of caring for friends.” Chase ran a hand through his long-for –a boy blond hair. “Now you either need to get out or shut up and pretend you won’t see anything.” Chase replied as he glanced at his pocket watch. He tried to mask the shivers that shook his body, the library was so cold. It didn't help that he felt like crap. 

“Ha! I have just as much right to be here as you! And who are you to tell me what to do?” Ron questioned, his arms folding over his body.

Chase sighed and closed his eyes. “All right. Just pretend you don’t see anything!” He moaned, he would be in SO much trouble when this was over.

“See what?!?!” Ron shot back, wincing as he voice echoed. He lowered it to a more appropriate level, “There isn’t anything to see!”

Almost comically a soft pop was heard. A creature that Ron recognized as a house elf appeared. “Yes, master Chase sir?” The house elf’s pointy ears stood straight as he faced the blond twelve year-old. He noticed the redhead and lifted a curious head towards him “You must be master Harry Potter’s best friend Ron Weasley!” He danced around excitedly. “But sir!” He turned to Chase once again. “You requested I not tell a single soul and since I’m tied to the school, I have to honor it, but you went and told Master Harry and Mistress Hermione’s best friend?”

“Dobby, I didn’t exactly tell him, he was just here.” Chase tried to explain as he coughed. 

"Master Chase, yous sound sick." Dobby concernedly put his hand on the boy's forehead. He noted that it was warm.

"I'm fine Dobby, just a little cold or something." Chase replied, swiping the House-Elf's hand away. In truth, the Slytherin did feel ill, but ever since he was a toddler, his father, Rowan Chase had taught him to never show weakness in front of anyone. His father was a muggle doctor who cared far more about his practice and his patients than he did about his son and wife. Chase could handle being sick and not acting like it. The last time he cried or complained that he didn't feel well in front of others, he had gained bruises on his back and butt for his troubles by the mighty Dr. Rowan Chase.

Dobby snapped the ill Slytherin back into the present:  

“Well, is master sure you want to do this now?” He whispered in a tone that confused the Gryffindor profusely.

“Do what, are you planning on something bad! I knew it! Slytherins are always planning something bad!” Ron shook an excusing finger at the blond, aware that he was projecting Hermione with the way he was acting.

“Listen, do you want to help your friends or not? I have a plan and since you obviously know that there is a plan, you may as well come along.” Chase sighed. He was so getting in trouble after the illness was solved.

“Come along? Where? What do you-“ Ron attempted to ask. Dobby stopped the question with an arm around both boys. A whirl of sounds and colors mixed dizzily until all he could think about was that his dinner he had eaten an hour before was going to be wasted.

                                                            ***NIN***

Much later the colors stopped swirling and a sensation of falling was felt. The world began to melt into one picture. A very peculiar picture.

They were in a medium sized room and standing on top of a table. Three people  stared back at the strangers. Chase felt liquid run down his shoes and realized one of the other occupants had spilled coffee on the table. A black man was holding an unconscious female, his hand on her wrist. He didn’t look much better off as he paled lighter than what was thought possible.

A middle aged man with a cane approached them. Tapping each one in turn and outright poking Dobby, he spoke. “Who and what the hell are you?”