Mittens silently popped into the private chambers of the Headmaster. She was understandably nervous. Normally, only the Headmaster's personal house elves entered here, but her master had given her a mission, and she was going to carry it out!

Quietly entering a side room, which served as a living room, she waited, knowing Socky, the Headmaster's favorite house elf, would sense her presence soon, and come to her to ask why she was there.

She didn't need to wait long.

-Pop-

"Mittens? Why have yous come here? Does Mittens' master have a message to be delivered to Master Dumbledore?"

"No, Master Snape has given Mittens an important mission to pass on to Socky, because Mittens has no hope of doing it."

"Oh?"

"Your great master is sick, my master is certain. He's asked Mittens to make sure Socky and the other house elves here know. He's also wanting yous to get something."

Socky's eyes widened, nodding fervently. "Socky and the others will care for great Master Dumbledore. Thanks, Mittens, for alerting us. Master did seem tired. Wes will make sure Master becomes well again. What is Mittens' master wanting?"

"A strand of hair from Socky's master and a vial of blood. Master Snape is wanting to find what is causing the Headmaster to be sick before it has a chance to get worse."

Socky frowned.

What she was asking for was a huge deal. Blood and hair could be used in a broad range of spells and potions, most of them very powerful and potentially dangerous and even harmful to the donor. Much of bloodmagic was forbidden, and for good reason. However, Socky had been ordered by his master – ordered, which was something he rarely ever did – to do whatever the Potions Master believed was best in accordance to the health and wellbeing of the inhabitants of Hogwarts, including himself.

Socky took the vial being offered to him by Mittens. "Socky now understands why Mittens wouldn't be able to do this. Socky will see what he can do. Wait here."

"Oh, and please, Socky, don't tell any ones about this. My master wants this to stay hush-hush."

"This will remain hush-hush, Socky swears it."

-Pop-

O o O

Socky looked around the room he had served in for nearly half a century. With the vial in his hand, he stepped forward purposely. Approaching his master's bed, he peered over the edge to find his old master sleeping.

He wasn't sleeping peacefully, Socky quickly noted. He was frowning and had drops of sweat on his brow. His striped nightcap was askew and his covers were half off the bed. He wasn't tossing and turning, but was, if it was actually possible, too still.

Nodding to himself, Socky came to a decision and skillfully climbed onto the bed.

The Potions Master was correct. His master was sick, but sick with what, Socky didn't know. He had never seen or felt anything like it. It felt . . . alive, and it was very very powerful, which, Socky admitted, made sense. It would have to be powerful to make his master sick. The last time his Master had gotten ill was when he had first become Headmaster. Transitioning the wards had taken a lot out of him, because he had had to replenish them due to Headmaster Dippit's lack of care.

Socky shook his head. Headmaster Dippit had truly been a weak wizard, and not in the magical sense, for he was slightly above average, magically. No, Dippit was weak in the sense of character. Socky didn't like thinking such things about anyone, but it was true. Hogwarts had suffered under Dippit's reign, and it had taken his master years to correct and heal the damage Dippit had caused to Hogwarts. In some ways, Dumbledore was still fixing things, but, unfortunately, Socky doubted his master would be able to ever bring Hogwarts back to the way she should be, particularly in the way she was run. It was because of Dippit that Hogwarts now had a Board of Governors. Before, the Headmaster ran everything — tuition, admission requirements, scholarships, summer programs . . . everything. And the only way he could be removed from position was by a unanimous vote from the Heads of Houses.

Refocusing, Socky magicked the blankets back onto the bed, lovingly re-tucking his master in. Socky had cared for Dumbledore since he was a boy, and he would never stop caring for him as such.

Becoming determined, Socky waved his hand over his master, placing magic upon him that hadn't been needed since he was a mere child. Sleeping magic. If the Potions Master said he needed hair and blood to help his master, Socky would get it. His master's spy would help make things well again.

Socky expertly pulled out a long silver hair, before looking to Dumbledore's hand.

With the small vial, he knelt forward, before making a tiny cut on his master's forefinger and making it bleed into the three inch tall container until it filled to the rim.

With that, Socky quickly healed the cut over, hoping that he had caused his master no discomfort, even in his sleep.

Socky sealed the vial and got off the bed, stowing the hair and vial into the blue pillowcase he wore before heading toward the door.

"Hmm." Dumbledore shifted, his eyes opening slightly to see what had woken him. "Socky?"

"Socky is here, Master," he said softly, not that surprised his master had been able to overcome the sleeping magic. It was only meant to keep him asleep while he got what he needed.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"2 am, sir. Socky thought Master was needing his blankets. Is Master too hot?"

"No, though I think I could use a drink. I'll head to the kitchens and get some hot cocoa."

Socky swiftly hurried to his master, who was now sitting up — sort of.

"Socky can gets Master's drink, sir. Will master be wanting double chocolate or triple?"

"It's alright, Socky. I can get it," Dumbledore said, putting his hand on the side of his head, trying to right his nightcap as well as force away the sudden dizziness that had risen and was quickly mounting into a sickening spin. He plopped back onto his pillows. "Urgh."

"Master? Is master alright?" Socky asked, quickly becoming quite concerned. "Should Socky get Madam Pomfrey?"

Dumbledore took several calming breaths before answering. "It seems that laying down helps. No, don't get Madam Pomfrey. I'll probably feel better by morning. I don't want to wake her up at this time of night. As muggles would say, this is likely just a twenty-four hour bug anyway."

He closed his eyes, the dizziness disappearing.

"Shall Socky get master a drink then?"

"Yes, but water please. Unfortunately, I don't think sugar is wise in this instance."

"Yes, master. Socky will bring it to master right away."

-Pop-

O o O o O

-Pop-

"Master, Mittens has it!" Mittens said, hurrying to Severus who was already setting things up in his lab.

Severus smiled. "Thank you, Mittens, you can set the two things here."

Mittens happily did so, before pausing and gazing up at her master seriously. "Socky told Mittens the Headmaster couldn't get out of bed to get hot cocoa. He gots too dizzy."

The Potions Master frowned. He was right then. Something serious was going on.

"Then I shall get to work right away. If you wish, Mittens, you may begin heating this up for me while I prepare a portion of his blood Socky obtained."

"Yes, Master."

And so, Master and elf got down to work, trying to get to the bottom of whatever was ailing the headmaster.

Several hours later, the sun rising above the horizon, Severus stared at his findings.

"Mittens, would you go see if Lupin is up? I think we may need something from him, if he would be willing. I may have figured out what is going on. I only hope I'm right."

"Yes, Master."

-Pop-

O o O o O

8 am – Hogwarts

Remus didn't know what this was about, but the fact that Severus' personal house elf had come to get him immediately told him this was important. And so, he soon found himself knocking on the door to Severus' personal lab in the dungeons.

"Come in," Severus' smooth voice stated from the other side.

Hesitantly, Remus entered.

"Close the door behind you," the potions master stated, not looking up at him, but looking at something through some sort of devise on the table.

A microscope?

"Severus, is something the matter?" Remus asked, closing the door before moving forward.

"No, nothing is wrong, at least I don't believe so. However, I've asked you here to help me prove it. I need a sample of your blood."

"A sample of my what? What is this about?" Remus asked, quickly growing suspicious.

Asking for a sample of someone's blood was a very personal request, after all. It could be used to do a lot of things, good and evil.

"Lupin, this is important, I wouldn't ask for it otherwise. Don't worry, it's not going to be involved in any potions."

Remus breathed out. "Very well. How much do you need?"

"Just a drop. Place it on this slide, please," Severus said, sliding a small rectangular sheet of glass toward him.

"What is this about?" Remus asked as he pointed his wand at his finger, making a pin prick which then allowed him to ooze a drop of blood onto the slide.

"I'll tell you once we're through," he said, taking the slide from Remus. He then placed a drop of red liquid, from a three-inch tall vial, right beside Remus' blood sample, and mixed them.

Remus snatched up the vial of blood from the table as Severus placed the slide under the magic microscope to examine it.

"Whoa, now whose blood is this? And why did you just mix it with mine?" Remus asked, now really wanting to get to the bottom of this.

Severus didn't answer him, so Remus sniffed the blood.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing with a vial of the Headmaster's blood? !"

Severus looked up from the microscope, his face not giving anything away. "What makes you think it's the Headmaster's?"

"I have my ways," Remus stated, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, if you must know, yes, that is the Headmaster's."

"How the bloody hell did you get it?"

Severus looked back to the microscope. "I have my ways."

"Severus, I swear, if you don't tell me what is going on right now, I'm going to—"

"The headmaster fell ill late last night."

That quickly altered Remus' feelings of the situation. "Oh my, is he alright?"

"I believe he will be, but his system is having to adjust to something, which is why I needed to ask you here."

"Alright . . ." Remus said, trying to follow. "But that still doesn't explain what you hope to accomplish with what you just did."

"He somehow got Potter's white magic in his system. I believe he had been exposed to enough at the ICW for the white magic to become concentrated enough to enter him. And now it seems that it is trying to incorporate itself into his core, just as it has with those Potter has healed."

"This has to do with Lycanthropy?"

"Just look at this. It will become clear to you," Severus said, motioning him over to the microscope.

"This is a muggle device," Remus stated, confused.

"Yes, which I have altered slightly to aid me in potion making. This microscope can see magic at the microscopic level, as well as all the other things muggles can see with it. There is more to potions than simply mixing things together, you know. There is actually a science to it, and looking at the heart of ingredients — oh, never mind. Just look."

Remus blinked, before doing as he was told.

"Um, what am I seeing?"

He could see dozens of little donut looking things floating around among other shapes. There were some donuts with an odd dark mist around them, while others just looked like simple red donuts.

"Most of what you're seeing are the Headmaster's red blood cells and your own — the donut shapes. Yours are the ones with the dark residue," Severus explained while Remus continued looking.

"What are these white globby looking things?"

"Those are the Headmaster's white blood cells. Just keep watching."

"Oh, my gosh!"

A white blood cell, which seemed to be pulsing white, suddenly charged a few of his red blood cells and sucked the black mist away, absorbing the mess and becoming even brighter before continuing on to the next cluster of infected red blood cells, leaving healthy ones in its wake.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a cure for Lycanthropy, you're very likely correct. But I believe it is more than that. I believe it is a vaccine as well. I believe if the Headmaster were to be bitten by a werewolf, he wouldn't need to worry about becoming one. He is immune."

O o O o O

10 am – Ministry

"Madam, this may be the beginnings of an epidemic!" the Minister exclaimed.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Minister. Let's just take a step back and look at the facts," Madam Bones stated, before turning to a healer. "How many have taken ill?"

"Well, that's just it, when asked, they say they don't feel sick, just a bit under the weather. Most of them don't even really have fevers, they just look awful and have no energy," he answered.

"Who's getting sick? Is there anything in common between them save for having been present at the ICW meeting yesterday?"

"They're all over sixty, though a few younger individuals have admitted to feeling a little off, but they don't have any other notable issues."

"How many?"

"Only fifteen, not counting those feeling 'off'. It hasn't appeared to spread at all, so that's something."

"Have you been able to detect anything? A curse, poison, illness?" Bones rattled off.

"No, nothing. We don't know what's causing it, but a few of the patients do seem to be getting better. At the moment, we don't believe this is life threatening, but for it to have come on so quickly is worrisome, assuming it was caused by something at the ICW meeting. Another thing that is odd is that it seems to be more severe with those who are older or those with particularly strong magic."

Bones frowned. "Do we have the seating chart of the meeting? We could see if these people were close together. Perhaps there is a connection there."

They quickly brought out a seating chart and began marking those who had become 'sick'. Sure enough, there were notable clusters.

The first few front rows, closest to the main table, had the most. But, to the far left, near the French assistant, was another group, which was a bit smaller than the last group, positioned to the back right, surrounding Mr. Lee's seat.

Madam Bones looked up from the page. "I think we all understand what this means. Mr. Potter is somehow the cause."

"The white magic?" the Healer asked.

"It must be."

O o O o O

10 am – Hogwarts

The Headmaster had missed breakfast. He had missed breakfast and hadn't sent a note or anything. Even Severus and Remus had sent a note, stating they were working on something down in the dungeons and would miss breakfast.

It was very unlike Dumbledore to not notify her, even when classes weren't in session, so Minerva decided to head up to his office to see if he had forgotten about the time and had stayed up all night or something. He had done something like that before, having been buried in paperwork and totally spacing on breakfast.

Going up, the gargoyle swiftly moving aside, she knocked on his office door before stepping in, as she often just entered after announcing her presence with a knock.

The place was quiet and she didn't see him at his desk or anywhere in his office. She glanced over his desk, hoping for a note to her, telling where he had gone or something.

Nothing.

"Hmm." She looked around to the portraits, most of which were watching her expectantly. "Have you seen the Headmaster today?" she asked.

"No, we have not. We had been hoping you would know what was going on. We believe he is still in his private chambers, though," Quentin Trimble said, a previous headmaster.

Minerva frowned, walking to the door leading to Dumbledore's rooms. Gathering herself, she opened the door and entered, closing the door to his office behind her.

"Albus?" she asked, her voice echoing off the walls. "Are you here?"

-Pop-

"Oh! Socky, you scared me."

"Socky is sorry, Professor, but Socky felt Professor McGonagall would like to know Master is sleeping and should not be disturbed."

"Sleeping? It's past 10."

"Master is . . . not feeling well, so Socky insisted he sleep to get better. His fever has gone down now."

"That man. Does he not know we have Madam Pomfrey for a reason?" McGonagall questioned, glancing past Socky toward Dumbledore's bedroom. "When did he start getting sick, what are his symptoms?"

"Last night, Socky thinks. Master told Socky Professor Snape escorted him to his room."

"And his symptoms?"

"Mostly weak and dizzy, but Master says laying down helps and it is nothing to worry about."

"'Weak and dizzy,' 'nothing to worry about'? If he wasn't sick, I would drag him down to the infirmary by his beard."

"Oh, please, Professor McGonagall, let him sleep. Socky is sure he will be better soon."

McGonagall sighed, unable to continue her rant as she saw how desperate Socky was to allow his master to continue sleeping.

"Very well, but I have to tell Madam Pomfrey. She would be very displeased with all of us if she learned about this later."

"Okay, Professor, Socky understands."

"Let me know when he wakes."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

O o O o O

Dumbledore woke to the sound of . . . something outside his quarters. In his office, perhaps? It sounded like voices. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand.

11:14 am.

Wow, had he really just slept over half the day away?

Sitting up and pleased he felt no dizzy spell, he got up and began getting ready; however, he did find that his muscles were sore, as if he was in the middle of getting over a serious cold. Placing his wizard hat on, he felt like he needed to sit down for a moment before heading to his office.

"Master?"

He turned and found Socky staring at him from across the room.

"Yes, Socky?"

"How is Master feeling?"

"I'm still not quite myself, but I'm feeling better than I was earlier," he said.

"Socky is glad. Socky was very worried."

Dumbledore gave him a soft smile before motioning him over to him. Socky hugged Dumbledore's knees, his large floppy ears hanging low.

"I'm quite alright, my friend. From time to time, everyone falls ill, even myself."

Socky nodded, collecting himself. "Professor McGonagall and some others are in your office, Master. Shall I go and tell them to go away? Socky knows they woke Master up."

"No, I should go see what the fuss is all about. It almost sounded like arguing earlier. I do hope Cornelius hasn't done something foolish again."

"Is Master sure he shouldn't just go back to bed? Master is still looking pale," Socky insisted, going to the bed and pulling back the covers, trying to encourage the Headmaster to get back to bed.

"Socky, I promise I will take it easy. Stop worrying."

"Okay, Master," Socky sighed.

With that, Dumbledore trudged across his quarters and quietly entered his office through the side door that often went unnoticed by visitors. By the time he got to his office, part of him was wondering if he should have taken Socky's advice and gone back to bed, but such thoughts quickly vanished as he saw that there was a conversation going on in his office. He remained where he was, within sight of them, but unnoticed.

"He's still resting, Madam Bones," Minerva said, standing in the middle of the office.

"Does that mean he has taken ill as well?" Madam Bones questioned, standing by the fireplace. "How sick is he? So far, there have been over a dozen cases, and we've found that the older and stronger the wizard, magically, the more severe the symptoms. Has Madam Pomfrey taken a look at him?"

"Not yet. We have taken the Headmaster's house elf at his word, trusting that Albus is fine, just tired. We didn't want to wake him unnecessarily, and Severus supported the house elf's course of action," Minerva explained.

"Professor Snape? No offense, but why would your support mean anything?" Bones asked, turning to the Potions Master.

"I have been able to study certain things surrounding the white magic from Mr. Potter, which is clearly the cause of the events here. I believe no permanent harm will befall anyone it interacts with, and your statement that most who have taken ill are now recovering supports my belief."

Bones looked piercingly at Severus, as if measuring him up. "Very well. Your theory does seem to have merit. Do you have any other theories to go along with this?"

"If you want my humble opinion, I believe those who absorb this white magic into themselves become immune to Lycanthropy. I am also certain this could be made into a distributable cure and vaccine, if one were to transfuse it directly into the bloodstream from an individual who has already gained the immunity."

"A blood transfusion? I don't believe the Wizarding World would feel that route safe," Bones stated.

"One must understand blood types, of course, as Muggles do, and go from there, but it isn't difficult. Even some of my first years could handle such a concept and carry it out if given the tools."

"I will take this idea to the Healers and see what they think of it."

"Well, if it helps, we have a willing participant to give it a trial run."

"Is this individual a werewolf?" Bones asked, incredulously.

"Yes. He understands the dangers and would be willing to give it a go here, if that would be agreeable with the Healers' schedules and can be arranged," Severus continued, ignoring Minerva's amazed expression and turning toward the far corner. "What do you think, Headmaster?"

"I think it's a splendid idea, Severus," Dumbledore answered, not surprised at suddenly being included.

Bones and McGonagall quickly turned, finding the Headmaster standing in the doorway that was at the corner beside one of Dumbledore's many bookcases.

"Albus, what are you doing up?" Minerva asked, honestly a bit concerned with the how Dumbledore was looking.

"Well, the last time I checked, this was my office," he replied with a smile, making his way over to his desk.

The others watched, noting how he took careful steps before sinking, relieved, into his chair.

"How are you feeling, Headmaster?" Madam Bones asked, her eyes taking in the paleness of his cheeks.

"Oh, I've been better, I'll admit, though I'm sure I'll live. But my health aside, I see no trouble doing as Severus suggests, though I am unclear as to how this trial will be carried out exactly."

"I honestly doubt it can be arranged by the time classes start, but I will see what can be done. As for how the trial will be run, I leave that to Severus, that is, if the Healers agree to such an operation in the first place," Bones said.

"We shall simply have to wait and see then," Dumbledore said.

"Well, I hope you feel better soon, Headmaster. I will take my leave now. The Minister is no doubt becoming impatient," Bones said, before promptly leaving.

Severus and Minerva turned their focus on Dumbledore.

"So how are you really feeling, Albus?" Minerva asked, her voice alone telling both men in the room that a partial answer or a fib would not bode well.

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged slightly. Now that Bones was gone, he didn't feel like he needed to keep up appearances. "Like a soggy lemon drop," he said finally.

Minerva's eye twitched, and Severus was finding it difficult to keep a straight face.

"An . . . interesting description, Headmaster. Are you still dizzy?" Severus asked.

"Not really, a bit lightheaded, but nothing more."

"How much is 'a bit'?" Minerva questioned, her eyes narrowing.

Dumbledore looked up at her and raised his eyebrows. Clearly he didn't expect to be under such scrutiny. "Enough to be noticed but not overbearingly so. Really, Minerva, I'm fine, I'm going to be fine."

She crossed her arms, and Severus had to fight off an amused smirk.

"Well, you look like you need a few more hours of sleep before you can even attest to approaching 'fine.' I think we should go ahead and call in Poppy. You do know that your little house elf wouldn't let anyone into your room, even after we explained to him we just wanted to determine that you were alright?"

Dumbledore blinked, deciding he owed his little friend a few lemon drops. "He did? Well, I apologize for him. I'm sure he was merely doing what he felt was best and meant no offense."

Minerva huffed, seeing Albus was not at all sorry for what Socky had done.

"Well, shall I call Poppy?"

Albus nodded, pushing the chair from the desk with a barely hidden grimace.

"Do you need assistance, Headmaster?" Severus asked, his trained eyes vigilantly watching his mentor's careful movements.

Severus ignored the curious look Minerva was giving him and forced himself not to react to or acknowledge Albus' suddenly touched expression.

"Yes, thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said after a moment, slowly rising from his chair.

Severus gracefully moved around the desk and came to his side.

Thankfully, Severus didn't need to provide much assistance, though the Headmaster did experience a short pass of dizziness on his way out of the office.

"I am curious, Severus," Dumbledore said as they approached his room. "Who is Remus going to receive the blood transfusion from? Is there another here besides myself and Harry who has been exposed to this white magic to have gained what you say it has given me — immunity?"

Severus looked away, thinking quickly. "Actually, Headmaster . . . I had . . . hoped you would be the donor. . . ."

Dumbledore stopped, placing a hand on the wall to keep himself steady as he stared at his potions master.

"Me? But as I understand it, there are blood types that must be taken into account. I don't know a great deal about human blood, but know that much. What makes you think Remus' system would accept my blood?"

Severus embraced his acting ability and managed a flush. "Headmaster. . . ." He stopped, purposely making it seem as if he was truly ashamed of himself.

"Severus, is there . . . something you wish to tell me?" Albus asked cautiously.

"I created a spell a while back. At the time it was more of an ego thing, to see if I could do it."

It wasn't a lie. To Severus it was a while back . . . in the future. The spell had become a necessity. With the war, sometimes they had to resort to muggle methods of healing, and when someone had suffered an injury, and Blood Replenishing Potions were scarce, well . . . they had to turn to each other for help directly.

"A spell?"

"It tells me the blood type of people."

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Well, I tested it on myself first and verified the spell worked. I'm A-negative."

"And I gather you later cast it on me without my knowledge?" Dumbledore continued. His voice wasn't angry or accusing, it was actually amused.

"I am sorry, Headmaster."

Albus waved him off. "No harm was done, Severus. So? What is my blood type?" he asked, walking again.

"O-negative."

"And Remus?"

"B-positive."

"And I can give him blood?"

"Actually, Headmaster, you're a universal donor. You can give to everyone. In the muggle world, they would pay you a great deal to donate every other month."

Dumbledore blinked. "Interesting."

O o O o O

11:30

Harry was enjoying the first day back at Hogwarts, oblivious to the chaos currently going on in Vaduz, Liechtenstein, and at the Ministry. The only thing Harry noticed was the fact the Headmaster had missed breakfast that morning, but he put it off as the man being busy. He was the Chief Warlock, Headmaster, Supreme Wugwump, and all of that, after all.

Dobby was ecstatic about being with Harry at Hogwarts and glowed with pride in his new uniform. Harry was happy to see Dobby cheerful and continued to treat him as a friend rather than a servant, though he did take Professor Snape's advice and give Dobby things to do.

He had already spent most of his morning in the library, reading up on healing magic and the medicine the wizarding world knew. However, so far, like the other books he had read earlier with Neville, he was disappointed. There was barely anything showing how things actually worked in the human body. It was quite frustrating, to be honest, but he would keep looking. He had only just started searching the school library after all, but even if he didn't find anything, he swore to himself that he would do some serious research that summer to get some helpful information, albeit that be from a muggle medical book or personally from a muggle doctor.

Harry sighed, closing the book he had been reading.

It was strange. He had never really cared much about reading up on things and doing research, as he never really had a reason to. But this. . . .

The desire to help his best friend obtain something he could never have was like an unending fuel, a drive, a push he had never had before. Sure, there was the desire he had to reach his full potential and overcome the lock Professor Snape said he had, but this was different.

He had lost his parents, and Neville, in a way, had lost his. But not permanently, or at least that's what Harry told himself. He was confident he could provide something that would not only change the life of his friend, but restore the life of two individuals who were just like his parents.

In Harry's mind, if he succeeded in restoring the Longbottoms, he would be bringing honor to his parents' sacrifice. But it was more than that. It would be a verification. An affirmation to himself.

Purpose.

After the chat he had had with Severus, his thoughts occasionally strayed to purpose, and the likelihood that Voldemort had never chosen or found one. Harry was afraid he would fall into that, and doom himself to a life of mistakes or pointlessness.

A part of himself knew he was being silly. That he was young and had years to live before he even needed to bother with such thoughts, but he couldn't deny the fear he felt when he wondered if Voldemort had ever been like him, more than merely being a parselmouth.

Professor Snape had said Voldemort had gone to Hogwarts, so that meant he had been sorted and had sat through classes, just like him. It meant he had slept in the dormitories, visited the library, wandered the grounds, and done all of the other things a student did.

Harry wondered if Voldemort had ever sat at the table he was at now.

It was an odd feeling, knowing the monster who had murdered your parents and had attempted to murder you had gone to the same school you were now attending.

When had things gone wrong? When had something snapped in him, making him Voldemort, or had he always been so crooked?

Harry wasn't sure he ever wanted to know the answer.

O o O o O

Remus glanced at the entrance of the library. He had been told by a house elf that Harry was in the library, no doubt seeking something to do as he waited for classes to begin again. Remus straightened, calling forth his Gryffindor courage, and entered the library.

Remus was nervous. He honestly didn't know what to say to the kid. The boy was amazing, and he truly felt awed to be one of his teachers.

Remus perused the shelves, trying to make it appear he was in there for a book, rather than to get to know the son of a lost best friend. Remus' eyes scanned the library, quickly finding the black haired boy in the far corner, surrounded by thick books.

Shaking his head, amused and slightly saddened as he recalled how often Lily was in a similar position, he quietly approached.

As Remus came closer, keeping his eyes mostly on the bindings along the shelves, he took note of how Harry's head rose from the pages and turned his way.

He must have felt my presence, Remus reasoned. I should have predicted that.

Remus turned and looked at him, deciding to give up his 'stealthy' approach.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," he said, deciding a professor greeting a student wasn't abnormal.

"Hello, Professor," Harry returned, shifting himself forward to sit up straighter.

Remus took that moment to scan the books sprawled out around Harry. He blinked at what he found. These were pretty advanced healing texts. What was Harry doing?

"Madam Pomfrey has you researching?" he asked, trying to determine why Harry would be looking into such things.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm just reading up on a few things on my own, professor."

Remus took the initiative and sat down at the table, though he decided to keep an empty seat between them as he allowed his eyes to glide over the books' titles that were displayed at the top of the pages.

"These are pretty advanced, Harry. Do you need any help?"

Remus heard a few short hisses from Harry's sleeve, and it was clear Harry was thinking over what his familiar had just said to him.

"I'm not sure. I'm looking for a book to tell me how the body actually works, and I'm having trouble finding anything that will really go into detail," Harry said after a moment. "Most of what I do find is too broad and only skims the surface."

"Hmm, well, I don't know much about healing magic, but I have had some experience with medicine in the muggle world. I doubt it'll be much help to you though." Remus cleared his voice when he saw Harry wasn't deterred in hearing him out. "I've spent some time in muggle London and have had the necessity to meet some doctors."

"Really?" Harry asked, perking up instantly.

Remus was a bit surprised by Harry's reaction, having assumed Harry had wanted to stay more on the magical aspect of treating others.

"Yes, I had an accident with an automobile one time, and . . . well, the muggles got to me first. Who knew their emergency services could react so fast? I suppose it's with their technology."

"Wow. Were you badly hurt?" he asked.

"Broken leg and a concussion. They zipped me to one of their hospitals, x-rayed me and did a dozen other tests on me to make sure I was okay. I assume you know what an x-ray machine is?"

Harry nodded.

"Very good. Well, once I woke, they showed me a few of the 'scans' they took of me. The detail was quite impressive, I must admit. Here in the wizarding world we don't have anything like that, granted, I suppose we don't really need it."

"So, these scans . . . were they of your head?"

Remus noted how Harry's eyes held an earnest glint at that question. Odd.

"They wanted to play it safe, so did a full body scan. They were concerned I could have serious internal injuries, due to the reports they heard from witnesses. Thankfully, my inner magic had stepped in and saved me from grievous harm, but they didn't know that."

Harry nodded, easily able to imagine such an occurrence. The magic of an adult wizard could save them from many things, impact being one of them. Another bonus to having a fully developed core.

"So, Harry, I hear you are quite the healer," he said with a smile, happy their conversation was going so well.

Harry gave a small shy smile, but Remus could tell there was a healthy amount of pride behind it, as there should be.

"I like to help," Harry answered with a shrug, his humility coming through now.

Remus couldn't help but be reminded of Lily.

They sat in silence for a time, and Remus was finding it difficult deciding what to say next. He looked at Harry after glancing over the books again, and it was clear to Remus Harry didn't know what to say either, though Harry was able to find his voice first.

"You didn't come here to get a book, did you?" Harry asked.

"Well," Remus said, hesitating for a moment. "I'll be honest with you, Harry. No, I didn't come into the library today to find a book."

Harry couldn't help but raise a rather Snape-ish eyebrow at him as Remus breathed out, like what he had just said had been a lot to say.

"If you want me to heal you, I'll be happy to, you know," Harry blurted out suddenly, as Remus had yet to elaborate why he had come into the library.

Remus gave a start at that, before giving Harry a soft smile and shaking his head. "As much as I'd like for you to heal me, ironically, I must say, 'no thank you'. I have made arrangements with another to take care of my . . . uh, furry little problem. Though, I do have you to thank for the cure I will receive from Professor Snape."

Harry's eyes widened, not knowing anything about the possibility of there being an alternative cure, though, he did know they would be looking into the white magic to synthesize an antidote.

"Professor Snape? He's found a way to extract the white magic and use it on others?" Harry asked, stunned.

It had only been a day since the ICW meeting. The Potions Master was really something to find a cure so quickly. It certainly did explain why he and Professor Lupin hadn't been at breakfast. Perhaps this was another reason why the Headmaster had been gone?

"Perhaps, which is why I can't accept your offer. I've agreed to be the trial run for this alternative method. If it works, we'll be able to begin eradicating Lycanthropy . . . possibly forever."

Harry blinked in confusion, trying to understand what that meant exactly, until his eyes widened. "A vaccine?"

"Your potions professor thinks so," Remus said softly.

"That's brilliant! When are they going to do it?" Harry asked.

"Well, Madam Pomfrey wants to wait for later this week because of," Remus cleared his throat before he continued. Harry noted that he did that a lot. "Because of the donor."

Remus didn't want to tell Harry about Dumbledore and others getting sick. He felt it would worry the boy unnecessarily, especially since most who had taken ill were beginning to recover.

"Donor?"

"Professor Snape believes the cure can be delivered through a blood transfusion because the white magic resides within the individual's blood cells as well as in their core."

Harry nodded in understanding. "That makes sense, because that's how the curse is too."

They fell into another moment of silence, before Remus broke it.

"I came in here today because I have been meaning to speak with you for some time now," Remus said, returning to the previous subject.

"Oh, what about, professor?"

"As ashamed as I am to admit it, I have been unsure of how to approach you, and not for the reason that you might think. You see, I'm . . . I was a close friend of your parents."

What Harry had been expecting had definitely not been that, and he didn't know what to say.

Remus smiled sadly. "I was in your parents' year and in Gryffindor with them. Your parents helped me a great deal, and I count myself blessed having known them."

"So, did they know?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"About my problem?"

Harry nodded, slightly embarrassed by his straightforwardness.

Remus laughed. "Oh yes, they definitely knew, but . . . how did you know I've had that problem for that long?"

Harry shrugged. "I can sense it. At the ICW, I was able to compare how it feels in people depending on how long it has been there. For you, you're not quite like Mr. McCaffrey, but you've had it for a long time."

Remus shook his head, surprised. "You're quite something, aren't you?"

Harry didn't have a reply for that, so didn't answer.

Remus sighed softly and looked at Harry with contemplative eyes. "Well, I just wanted you to know. So . . . if you have any questions about them, you have another person you can ask," he continued, hoping he wasn't being too painfully awkward.

Apparently not, as Harry smiled. "Thanks, professor."

Remus' heart soared. "No problem."

O o O o O

Harry came to the Hufflepuff table, looking forward to heading back to the library after lunch to perhaps find something to help Neville's parents, and maybe Remus would be there to talk to him more. He would see.

He sat down, glancing up at the head table. Professor Snape and Professor Lupin were present, as were most of the other teachers, but Madam Pomfrey was gone, as was the Headmaster.

Sitting down, he took a turkey sandwich from the dish across from him before a flutter of movement caught his eye. An owl. He looked up and watched as the unfamiliar owl landed in front of his plate and held out his leg in which a letter was attached. The few other people at the table looked his way, curious to see what Harry Potter had been given, and from whom.

Harry took the letter, oblivious to Professor Snape glancing his way as the owl flew off.

There was an official looking insignia on the front with the words: International Confederation of Wizards.

Curious, Harry ripped along the top of the envelope, the letter within magically rising up soon after.

With the letter in his hands, he felt a ripple of magic brush across his bare skin.

:Harry!:

Coral's alarmed hiss was the only warning he got before a deep throbbing voice boomed forth, releasing a powerful pulse that propelled him off the bench and onto his back.

"HEAL THIS."

A pain he had never felt before seeped into his skin and sunk into the bones in his hands, a black, visible fire flickering across his skin.

He screamed, his magic lashing out and repelling the envelope away, but it was too late, the hex, curse, or whatever it was, had already entered him.

Coral landed limply on the floor by his side.

:Coral!:

She didn't answer.

Still on his back, shouting as tears rose in his eyes, he struggled with his hands, trying, desperately, to put out the dark flames that felt as if were boiling his bones.