Albus guided Harry through the crowds in the ICW building. It was much like the Ministry in that regard — so many people, rushing to one meeting or another.

People quickly got out of his way, recognizing him as the Supreme Mugwump, but soon their attention shifted.

"That's Harry Potter!" many began whispering excitedly, others pointing and staring.

Harry tried to ignore it the best he could, but Dumbledore knew it was difficult. Finally, they made it to a less crowded hall, but eyes and mutters followed them.

"Ah, Albus! Here at last, I see," a voice boomed from behind them.

Dumbledore stopped and turned, recognizing the voice as Aage Brown's. He was a large black gentleman and a representative of Ethiopia, as well as respected Healer.

Harry turned with him, blinking up at the rather massive human being practically barreling toward the Headmaster.

Albus didn't seem alarmed and offered his hand as the man approached.

"Yes, Aage," Dumbledore said as the man clasped his hand and pulled him into a half hug.

"So how has the Ministry been treating you, old man?" he asked, his deep rich voice booming around them.

"As kind as always," Dumbledore answered before looking down to Harry. "Harry, this is Aage Brown. He's one of the representatives from Ethiopia and is one of the Healers who have been selected to monitor you and those you heal today. Aage, this is Harry Potter."

"So, you're the little man that has caused the recent pandemonium here. Very pleased to meet you," Aage said with a smile, before looking back to Dumbledore. "Well, they are waiting for you and the lad. They've been itching for the meeting to begin."

"I can imagine."

With that, they made it to the meeting chamber and approached the side door at the front area where those presiding over the meeting sat. There were two guards on either side, standing at attention. They gave the Supreme Mugwump short nods.

The place was huge and filled with chairs, many of which already had a witch or wizard upon them.

"You will remain at the front with me, Harry," Dumbledore said, stopping at the threshold before those within the chamber could see them. "If at any time you need to stop, because you are getting tired or for any reason, just tell me so. Don't do anything you don't want to or feel you shouldn't, alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I understand, sir, though I doubt Coral here would let me do anything stupid anyway."

:You got that right: Coral stated, giving his wrist a squeeze.

Dumbledore smiled, before giving a nod to Aage, who then announced them to the members.

Everyone stood, turning to the front. Harry blinked, taking the huge place in. There were over a hundred nations represented there in the room. There were six long rows of a dozen tables with aisles between them and the walls. The aligned tables all faced the front wall where the main table was. Harry tried not to nervously shuffle his feet, feeling most of those in the room staring at him. There were two others at the main table, but he and Dumbledore took the middle. Aage Brown went to the far side of the platform where two other people were standing (Harry assumed they were Healers as well).

The area on the platform in front of the main table had been cleared, save for a chair that could be adjusted to recline back or made into a makeshift bed. There was a small side table beside the three healers with some instruments on it, but Harry couldn't identify them. He supposed it was for monitoring the healing process, or at least that's what he hoped.

"I would like to call this meeting to order, and begin by introducing Mr. Harry Potter, who has graciously agreed to come and relieve any doubts concerning the Lycanthropy cure," Dumbledore began once he had taken his place at the front center. He subtly motioned Harry to take the seat beside the chair placed next to his.

There were some doubtful mutterings at this, but no one spoke up enough to make themselves heard.

"As I am his escort, he is also under my protection."

"The floor recognizes Mr. Harry Potter," someone said. Harry didn't know who had spoken.

"Thank you. I would also like to thank Healer and Representative Aage Brown, Healer Timothy Chekhov, and Healer Mathew Garson for monitoring the proceedings today."

They were then recognized by the floor as well.

"Now, let us acknowledge the nations that have previously agreed to partake in the cure verification and begin the purpose of this meeting," Dumbledore continued.

With that, the fourteen nations, who had agreed to bring an individual with Lycanthropy, rose and introduced themselves and the willing participant from their country. However, Harry noticed that some 'willing participants' didn't appear too willing. In fact, some of them looked down right petrified, as if they had no idea why they were even there. However, others were clearly anxious, staring at him with uneasy hope. What had these people been told, or, rather, what had they not been told?

Once the participants had been introduced, Dumbledore stood and led Harry in front of the main table and to the cleared area. Those on the floor watched.

Aage shook his hand again for show before Harry turned to the man beside him.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, I am Healer Chekhov," the rather small, elderly, Russian man said, holding out his hand. "I have been told you can do miracles?" Harry wasn't sure if he was teasing him or just making conversation. With the accent it was hard to tell.

"I've been told I can," Harry said, taking his hand. "But I just try my best to help."

"As do we all," the next Healer said, stepping up. "I am Healer Garson. Is there anything we should know before you begin?"

"Well, when the curse is destroyed, most of the magic left over from it comes into me. I call it white magic," Harry answered as he shook the man's hand.

"Where does the rest go?" he asked.

"It stays in the patient. I use the white magic now to help me destroy the curse. I believe it acts as a kind of antidote against it."

"Hmm, I see," Garson said, intrigued.

"That makes sense. Whenever a curse is destroyed, it does leave residual magic. It's how we can trace certain spells and such," Chekhov added.

"Well, is there anything else, Mr. Potter?" Aage asked.

"No, but don't touch me while I heal. It's distracting and I don't know what would happen to you."

"Sound advice," Chekhov said.

"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded, pulling up his sleeve to reveal Coral. "We are."

Revealing Coral instantly caused many on the floor to shift and whispers to flare up, until Dumbledore lifted his hand for silence. The Healers just blinked and stared at her curiously; obviously they had expected her.

"This is Mr. Potter's familiar, Coral. She helps in his method of healing, for those of you who didn't know. Now then, would the fourteen to be cured please come up here?" Dumbledore asked, looking to the countries that had brought 'volunteers'.

Half of them eagerly came up, while a few others had to be urged forward, none-too-gently, by some rather fierce looking individuals. Harry didn't like that, but kept his mouth shut. He also noticed that some were bound and had guards on either side of them, while others had no restraints, magical or otherwise, and looked a bit like Professor Lupin — wary and rough.

The fourteen individuals formed a line in front of the platform, the first being a woman in her mid-thirties. She looked rather drawn and her left hand trembled slightly in the bonds around her wrists as she lifted her face to meet Harry's. She had a guard beside her with a wand trained on her. He looked rather cruel and ruthless, and his eyes held no pity or understanding for the woman, just malice.

Harry's jaw clenched at the guard's treatment of her. For whatever reason, it made his blood boil. Even though Harry didn't know anything about the woman, only that she was from Lithuania, it didn't seem right to treat someone like that who was already victimized by their condition.

:I believe they are waiting for you, Harry: Coral hissed after a moment.

Harry touched Coral on her head with his finger in acknowledgement, before taking a step toward the woman.

"Not too close, young man," the guard stated, straightening in preparation.

In preparation for what, Harry didn't know.

"I can't heal her unless I touch her," Harry stated, not breaking eye contact with the woman. "Come and sit here, if you want to be cured," he said, holding out his hand for her.

Dumbledore came beside Harry, though he was certain the woman wouldn't try anything. It was more of a show for those watching.

"I will ensure Mr. Potter's safety," he told the guard. "Allow Mr. Potter to do what he has been asked to by this chamber."

The guard backed off and the woman got onto the platform and went to the empty chair.

"How long have you been sick, ma'am?" Harry asked, deciding he would not call her a werewolf.

"F-for seventeen years," she said, her English a bit rough.

"I have healed a man who had been sick for most of his life," Harry told her. "You'll be free of this curse soon. Now, I want you to relax. I will have to have Professor Dumbledore cast a body-bind on you, but he'll lift it once I am finished."

She nodded shakily, a bit overwhelmed with everything that had happened to her in the past few days.

"Professor?" Harry asked, looking to Dumbledore as he came to the woman's side.

The Headmaster nodded and quickly waved his waved at the woman, silently freezing her in place with the same spell Snape had cast on Mr. McCaffrey.

"Mr. Potter, why the body-bind?" Aage asked while Healer Gargov jotted something down on his clipboard he had just conjured.

"When I cured Andy, I had to hold him down because his muscles sort of . . . spasmed, I guess would be the word. I had someone place a body-bind on Mr. McCaffrey when I had healed him, and even with the spell, I could feel his muscles straining to move as I destroyed the curse. After I'm done though, their muscles are fine. I think it's the curse rebelling. The curse is a very . . . violent thing."

"Yes, it is. Well, whenever you are ready, Mr. Potter," Aage said gently, having taken a scan of the woman to be compared to the 'after-healed' one.

Harry nodded and approached the chair with the woman, rolling up his sleeve, fully exposing Coral, who was wearing her silk 'sweater', which covered about four inches of her, starting an inch behind her head.

Everyone in the chamber watched with bated breath as the healers prepared to document the event.

Harry placed his hand at the center of the woman's chest, focusing only on what he was going to do as he placed his other hand on her forehead. Her eyes followed his left hand, her eyes crossing as she took in Coral around his left wrist.

Harry exhaled, once again centering himself as he closed his eyes, but this time, he consciously called forth the white magic, instead of his normal magic. Perhaps this way he would not tire as quickly as he would otherwise.

:Curse, be no more: he hissed, to the horrified curiosity of those on the floor, as his now glowing white eyes snapped open, staring into the terrified blue of the woman's.

The white magic surged forward from Harry, relentless in its attack of the curse, effortlessly obliterating it within the woman, until . . . white magic rose from the ashes of the curse. It did the same it had in Andy and Walter, most of it departing into Harry while a small amount remained in the core of the patient.

Harry closed his eyes, willing the magic to calm, which it obediently did.

"Unbind her, professor. The curse is gone," he said, after sending his magic out a bit to confirm. She was clean.

Dumbledore did so, but, before she could get up, Harry took hold of her bound wrists.

"Let me take care of this as well, since you are here," he stated. "I can tell it's been sprained, at the very least."

She stared at him, beyond words, as he quickly healed her wrist damaged from the rough handling of her guard when he had bound her.

With that, Harry stepped back and the woman dissolved into quiet sobs as she returned to the bewildered guard. The healers had taken a scan of her before she had gotten off the stage.

Healer Chekhov quickly got to work in comparing the scans, but it would take a few hours before he got the results. Primarily, he was wanting proof that this was or wasn't a cure. If the first scan told them she was a werewolf and the second that she wasn't . . . well, there you go.

Harry looked to the next one in line, ignoring the astonished looks of all the others in the ICW. Evidently, the white flash, his glowing eyes, and the weeping woman had been impressive.

The next was a young boy from Nepal, not much older than himself. He was shadowed by a woman, but she didn't appear to be like the man who had been guarding the Lithuanian woman.

"Do I have to be made still?" the boy asked, nervously glancing at Dumbledore.

"It makes it easier for me to heal you. Otherwise I have to hold you down myself," Harry said honestly.

"Oh . . . okay. It doesn't hurt, does it?" The boy obviously didn't care that he was being heard by all in the chamber or that such a question made him appear weak.

Harry turned his eyes to the woman he had just cured, to the shock of most there. "Did it hurt?"

She shook her head, still too overcome with emotion to speak.

That must have been all that the boy needed, for he took his place on the chair and gave a nod to Harry.

Harry cured him, the whole process easier than the previous.

And so it went. He healed the next, and then the next. Each case came and went so quickly that Harry no longer bothered calling the white magic back to his center after each healing, allowing his eyes to glow hot white as each person came up to be healed. All the while the healers jotted things down, took scans, and documented.

The ninth person came up, standing tall and proud. He was from New Zealand and had no guards or bonds, but he did have some kind of collar around his neck. It seemed to be magical.

"I had expected a man, not a child," he said as he stepped up to the platform and sat down on the chair. "But it is just as well."

:This man seems to be more accepting of what the curse has made him: Coral stated.

"How long have you been this way?" Harry asked. He found that asking the question got his magic ready. Whether it was a conscious or subconscious thing, he didn't know.

"For one-hundred-and-sixty-seven moons," he answered.

"You seem rather calm about it, sir," Harry observed.

"I have come to accept what I am, but now that there is a way I can end it, I shall welcome it."

"Good, because I won't heal those who don't want to be healed," Harry stated.

"I want to be healed," he stated.

So Harry healed him.

He healed a few more, but as he came to the thirteenth, he paused as the old man came up and sat.

He appeared to be in deplorable condition. Harry was actually impressed he had made it up the few steps onto the platform, but as the frail man got closer, Harry frowned.

"You're not a werewolf," Harry blurted.

There was a sudden uproar. People began yelling at the old man, while others were yelling at Harry, telling him he was lying and that the man had to be a werewolf — he wouldn't have been brought otherwise. Others were shouting in outrage, saying this was deplorable behavior of representatives and members of the ICW.

"He has to be a werewolf!"

"This is an outrage! How dare your country bring someone not a werewolf! This meeting was to prove Mr. Potter can in fact heal werewolves, not to deceive the ICW with foolhardy tricks!" another said, shouting at the old man.

"The boy is obviously mistaken," another representative said.

"Your leaders had agreed to secure a werewolf and bring them here to prove or disprove this alleged cure, not waste time!"

Harry just stood there, staring at the old man who wasn't a werewolf.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore roared, casting a massive silencing charm on all on the floor. "Now, let's discuss this like civilized people," he stated, turning to the man in the chair. "Sir, are you a werewolf or aren't you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not," the old man said gruffly, straightening and suddenly looking less pathetic.

There was some heated shuffling, but no one on the floor was able to speak, thanks to the Supreme Mugwump's spell.

"Why did you come up here then?"

The man glanced at the representative from his country, who was to the far back right of the chamber. Dumbledore waved his hand at the representative the fake-werewolf pointed to, lifting the spell from him.

"I believe many here would like an explanation, Mr. Lee," the Supreme Mugwump stated.

"My higher-ups and their allies decided this would be a good opportunity to get to the truth, and we have still kept our end of the deal. My nation has a werewolf here to be cured, but we wanted to see if Mr. Potter would be able to know if he was actually treating an individual with Lycanthropy or not. After all, if he can't, how can this cure be genuine?" he said.

Harry could tell the man was well respected. He was sharp and had a charisma that ebbed from him. His words had actually alleviated some rage from a number of people. And, even Harry had to admit, it was a good test. Not exactly a fair or kind one, but it did what they desired and he could see why they wanted it.

"I see. So where is your people's werewolf?" Dumbledore asked.

"Somewhere in this room. I ask, as representative of my nation and spokesman of fifteen others in this, that Mr. Potter come down here and find them."

The eyes of the room returned to Harry.

Harry stepped forward, looking quite impressive with his stance and white magic that was still pulsing in his eyes. He went down from the platform, Dumbledore following behind him with the three healers. Harry paused at the last person in line who was to be cured.

"You're not a werewolf either," he said.

The woman shook her head.

"Her nation is one of the countries who agreed to perform this test," Mr. Hubble said, feeling a few angry eyes fall back to him. "The real fourteenth is in here as well."

It was a good thing Dumbledore had yet to fully lift the silencing spell. People were furious, but not for the same reasons. Some were angry because of the deceit, others because there were werewolves hidden among them!

Harry continued forward, ignoring those around him watching his every step.

:Coral?:

:I am not sensing them here. Let's continue down the aisle:

:Yeah, I don't sense anything close either: Harry agreed, not bothering to feel bad about scaring an older gentleman he had passed by in speaking parseltongue.

Harry continued down the next aisle, going back up toward the front left. He slowed, sensing the familiar feeling he got in class from Professor Lupin.

He turned toward a young intern, the assistant to the French representative.

"You have Lycanthropy," Harry said.

Several people gasped, though it was unheard.

She blinked and took a heavy swallow, her eyes filling with amazed and apologetic tears. Dumbledore lifted the silence from her.

"Yes. I'm sorry for the deceit, but . . . we wanted to be sure this was true," she said.

"Do you want to be cured?" Harry asked, not sure how he felt about the whole mess right then. He just wanted to be done for the day. He was getting really tired of the stares and was looking forward to being back at Hogwarts.

"Yes! Yes, please," she said earnestly.

He motioned for her to sit and he healed her right then and there after a quick body-bind cast by Dumbledore, who then lifted it once she was cured.

There was no one doubting Harry anymore, and soon, once their tests came back from the newly cured, no one outside the ICW would be able to hold reasonable doubt against him either.

Harry finished walking that side of the chamber, still not finding the hidden werewolf. Finally, he began heading to the back right.

:I sense it: Harry stated.

:Yes: Coral agreed. :They are nearby:

Harry came to a stop in front of Mr. Lee.

"You," Harry said, surprised himself.

The man smiled sadly. "Yes. Me," he whispered, but his voice was rich in power and authority.

Everyone who knew the respected representative stared in absolute amazement. How had they never suspected?

"I have been a werewolf for five years. I became a representative in hopes of helping fellow werewolves in society, but now it seems I will need to find another reason to remain a representative, for I believe the curse of Lycanthropy has truly met its match in you, Mr. Potter. I bow to your ability and hope you may continue to bestow your gift upon myself and my brethren."

Keeping his legs straight, the black haired man bowed, bending at the waist.

Harry didn't know what compelled him. Perhaps it was the white magic, but he raised his hand and placed it upon the man's head, and, without the body-bind, hissed, :Curse, be no more:

The white magic that he had accumulated for the day obliterated the curse within the man so quickly that the man's muscles had no time to respond. An instant later, after the large white flash, the curse-free man stood, becoming yet another individual who would be a lifetime ally of . . . the Slumbering Mage.

O o O o O

After getting the results from the first few scans an hour later, which all proved that Harry had successfully cured their Lycanthropy, it had nearly been impossible to politely leave. It was only thanks to Dumbledore stating he had a school to run that finally got them to reluctantly bid them farewell.

The Healers were ecstatic with what they had gathered from the scans, and they hoped to begin analyzing the 'white magic' as soon as possible to perhaps synthesize more to begin healing others without Harry.

Harry and Dumbledore wished them luck, before the meeting was adjourned and everyone went their separate ways, most eager to spread the news of what they had witnessed.

"I think Madam Pomfrey would like to examine you before anything else," Dumbledore said.

"I'm fine, sir, really. I'm not really that tired at all. I think it's because I just let the white magic do the work, instead of using my magic like I had with Andy and then had begun to use with Mr. McCaffrey," Harry answered after having collected himself. They had used a long-distance portkey to take them to the Headmaster's office.

"Hmm. Well, just the same, I doubt Madam Pomfrey would be very happy with either of us if I didn't take you to the infirmary first, and we don't want her upset with us, do we?" the Headmaster asked.

"I suppose not," Harry agreed.

"However, a few more minutes here won't hurt anything," Dumbledore said, moving around his desk and opening a drawer. "I had meant to give this to you on Christmas, but decided it might be better to wait. I'm not too sure Mrs. Longbottom would have liked the idea of you receiving this while under her care," he said, pulling out a folded garment of some sort.

"What is it?" Harry asked, approaching slowly.

"Your father allowed me to borrow this, but I hadn't been able to return it to him. I believe it is time for you to have it."

Dumbledore held it out for him to take, not saying anything else.

Harry took it, feeling the cool smooth cloth sink between his fingers. He let it fall slightly so it would unfold.

"A cloak?" Harry asked.

"Go ahead and put it on," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with some mischief.

Harry did so, wondering what this was about.

He looked down at himself, wondering what it looked like, only. . . .

"My body's gone!"

Dumbledore couldn't help it, he laughed. "No, it's just invisible," he said lightly, now only chuckling. "It is an invisibility cloak. They're quite rare, and yours especially is very special."

"Wow."

"Your father got it from his father, and his from his father and so on. I believe it goes back for about a dozen generations."

Harry's eyes widened, brushing his hand across the invisible fabric, wondering how many Potters had held it before him, and taking in the fact that the last had been his father.

"Thank you, sir," Harry managed.

"You're welcome, Harry. Use it well."

O o O o O

Severus breathed a sigh of relief when he learned Harry and the Headmaster were in the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey no doubt making sure Harry hadn't overexerted himself in healing the fourteen werewolves.

Severus shook his head. How the ICW thought having Harry heal all of those werewolves in one day was a good idea was beyond him, but hopefully all was well and nothing horrible had occurred.

He supposed he would see at dinner. He wondered if Harry and the Headmaster had eaten lunch. It wouldn't surprise him if they hadn't. It was approaching the late afternoon, and if the ICW was true to form, they had been too cheap to provide lunch for all their members and visitors — that and people were ever so picky with what they would eat.

Severus stepped out of his dungeons, deciding he had brewed enough for the day.

"Hello, Professor," one of his Slytherins, who had stayed for the holidays, greeted as he passed by.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Huller."

There was less than a week left for the holidays, and Severus was actually looking forward to classes beginning again. He wanted to get back into a nice routine, and wanted Harry to be included in that routine, instead of having to wonder what was going on around the boy and what he would do next. At least here in Hogwarts, Severus and the other professors had some control of whatever he would get into, as long as they were vigilant — meaning they had to be much more observant than last time.

And willing to listen.

But that aside, the only thing that was weighing heavily on his mind now was what was to come of the events at the ICW. He knew it was very likely that they would want Harry to begin periodically healing mass amounts of werewolves. However, the question about whether or not Harry would be able to do it wasn't his main concern.

It was the reactions of the werewolves who didn't want to be healed.

He highly doubted Fenrir Greyback would happily come in and ask to be healed. It was very likely that the monster was currently seething some place, trying to think of a way to stop Harry from curing other werewolves.

O o O o O

"I wonder what the elves have planned for us tonight," Dumbledore said.

"Albus, you do ask them never to tell you," Minerva said as they headed to the Great Hall. "You like the surprise, if I recall."

Harry had gone off to the Hufflepuff dormitory to unpack his things before dinner. He had also wanted to make sure Dobby and Hedwig had settled in alright. His check up with Madam Pomfrey had gone smoothly. It seemed he had been right; allowing the white magic to do the work had saved him from exhaustion. It was certainly good news, especially if he ever needed to heal many werewolves in one day again.

"I do hope they have some steaks tonight. Having skipped lunch, a nice rare steak sounds awfully good," he said.

McGonagall gave him a sidelong glance. "'Rare'? When did you acquire a taste for that?"

"Hm, recently, I suppose," he said with a shrug, entering the Great Hall with her.

Minerva shook her head at him before focusing her attention to those in the hall.

There were the Weasleys and two others in her house, a few from Slytherin, five from Ravenclaw, and three from Hufflepuff — well, four now, counting Harry. The holidays rarely had more than thirty students remain behind at Hogwarts, and this year was no different.

Her eyes fell upon Harry, who had taken a seat beside a fellow Hufflepuff who was closest to his age — Mara Gates, a third year girl.

McGonagall gave a quiet smile as she watched him introduce Coral to Mara.

O o O o O

"How did it go, Albus?" Flitwick asked as dinner started.

"It went quite well, Filius. All fourteen were healed, and before we had left, the Healers had already been able to determine the cure was a success on the first few Harry had healed," he answered, happily placing a juicy steak onto his plate.

"And Harry? I saw him leaving the infirmary earlier," Flitwick stated.

"He's well. He admitted to me that when healing Andy and Mr. McCaffrey he had primarily used his normal magic. Evidently, using the white magic takes very little effort for him to use, so he isn't as tired as I had expected."

"Oh, splendid!" Flitwick said, glancing briefly at Remus, who had yet to look up from his plate.

"Yes, it is very good news. I had been worried he would push himself too far today," Dumbledore admitted, before taking a bite from the red steak. "Mmm, the elves certainly have outdone themselves tonight. This is excellent. Anyways, I had been concerned with how things would go today. I'm glad everything has turned out as they have."

"Do you know what the ICW plans to do from here?" McGonagall asked.

"No, though I believe a number of them will want to look more closely into this white magic."

"Understandable. I imagine, it has a great deal of potential," Flitwick said.

Dumbledore nodded, taking another bite.

Conversation branched from there, talking about the coming year and how they were looking forward to beginning lessons again. Before long, dinner came to an end, and the students headed back to their dorms and the professors left the Great Hall as well.

O o O o O

Severus fell into step beside Dumbledore as they left the Great Hall.

"Ah, Severus. Well, I think you would have been pleased to have seen how Harry handled himself today at the ICW."

"The fact that he returned without fatigue was a relief enough," Severus replied frankly. "Besides, you know how well dignitaries and I get along."

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Yes, they are quite wary of you."

"Not as wary as I am of them," he returned as they continued down the hall, Dumbledore closest to the wall.

"Yes, well, there are a few who really do seek to–"

The Headmaster faltered, having to immediately lift his hand to the wall to stabilize himself.

"Headmaster?" Severus asked, quickly moving forward and grabbing hold of the older man's arm in case his legs gave out.

Dumbledore tightly closed his eyes before blinking several times at the floor, as if trying to get rid of something in his vision.

"I'm alright, Severus, just got a little dizzy there for a moment," he said, no longer bracing his hand against the wall. However, his color was definitely off.

"Let's go to the infirmary and have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you."

"No, I'm quite alright now. It's been a long day, and age, it seems, has begun catching up with me. I'm fine."

Severus narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't really argue with the man. "Very well, but if you feel ill tomorrow, I'm calling her."

"Duly noted."

Severus escorted the Headmaster up to his rooms before bidding him goodnight, and the fact that his mentor didn't object worried him.

Nothing like this had happened last time, and as far as he knew the old man had never fallen ill, not in all the years he knew him. Sure, he had heard Madam Pomfrey refer to the time he had caught the Wizard's Flu, but that was when he had first become Headmaster, which was years before Severus had even been born.

Something was seriously going on here. Something that should not be brushed aside.

After years of surviving a horrible war, Severus had learned not to ignore certain feelings, and the feeling he was getting now was yelling at him to act. It had yet to steer him wrong, so Severus quickly decided what to do.

Closing his eyes and hoping no one would ever find out, he called his house elf the moment he was within the walls of his private chambers.

"Mittens."

-Pop-

"Yes, master?"

"I have an important mission for you, something no one can ever find out about."

Mittens stood at attention, all 30 inches of her. "What shall Mittens do?"

O o O o O

Elsewhere. . . .

"Are you sure you're alright, Timothy? You're looking a bit peaky."

Timothy Chekhov sat on the couch beside his wife.

"I'm fine, honey. Today was just a big day, that's all."

O o O

"How was he, grandpa? Is he really like what they say? Can he really cure people?" a little boy asked.

"Yes, he cured them all, releasing a bright white flash when he did so," the older man said, gratefully sinking into the chair and closing his eyes.

"Grandpa?"

"Huh?"

"Are you getting sick?"

"No-no, it's just be a long day. I got to see Harry Potter, you know," he said teasingly, though it was clear he was growing tired.

Tired and feeling under the weather, just like a dozen other people who had been present at the ICW meeting earlier that day, and close to Harry Potter when he had healed the fourteen werewolves. . . .