Free Will and Fate

Hermione sat next to Lavender during History of Magic, ignoring Harry as he tried to get her attention before he settled at a desk in the next row. She studiously took notes throughout class while he tried in vain to get her to look his way, finally stopping when Professor Binns hovered in front of him and Dean, his droning, echoing voice rising a bit as he urged Harry to pay attention.

Feeling Hermione's agitation, Harry finally relented and settled himself to struggling to stay awake through what was easily the most boring class at Hogwarts.

The nurse checked the chart again before glancing down at the pale boy in the bed. "His fever's gone up five degrees since last night. I can't think of anything else for it. I'm sure Pepperup Potion won't do any good after this point. We've tried using a Blood Replenisher every four hours; it seems to have slowed the major effects. The cough has calmed a bit, but I'm not sure. Healer Strout?"

She nodded and turned from where she'd been examining the boy on the bed. He was twitching slightly in his potion-induced sleep, but was otherwise quiet. "Has word been sent to the Ministry?"

"I've alerted the Improper Use of Magic Office, it was all I could think to do. The message came back not ten minutes ago. Minister Dumbledore will be down to investigate personally."

The Healer didn't betray any surprise at this news. She had, in fact, expected it. "And the mother?"

At this question, the nurse's round face sagged in a heavy frown. "I've just heard back from Lily Snape as well. She said she visited Hogwarts first thing and her son is at school, in perfect health." She paused and let this comment sink in. "Perhaps his wand was stolen by this boy?"

The Healer stood away from the bed for a long moment, frowning down at the boy. The sound of his labored breathing filled the small room for a few long moments before she spoke again. "I suppose it's possible. But then," she turned to face the nurse, "why wouldn't Ollivander have said as much last night? The man's mind is as sharp as ever in my estimation. He would have known if the wand this boy had with him had been sold to him or some other child."

"I suppose, but with the amount of bruises he has, it'd be a miracle if anyone who knew him could recognize the child."

"Well," Healer Strout started, "once his bones have fully regrown and his bruises have healed a bit more, I'd like to wake him, ask a few questions. If this is the same as our previous case, we can't waste any time. We'll have to ask him how he contracted it; his case is advancing far more quickly than the previous case."

"That one took over a year?" she asked, making a notation on the chart with her quill.

"Yes," the Healer responded. "From all indications, his symptoms started with a small cough long before they became severe. And he did not take the physical beating this boy has; it is a wonder he lived through it. With the way this child's case is developing, unless we can find out what caused it, he may not have three months, if that." Healer Sprout sighed heavily and approached the bed, laying her head on the child's forehead as it burned with fever. "My greatest fear is that this child will become the first of many. Pray we do not have an epidemic on our hands."

"I'm sorry. I don't know how many other ways I can say it." Harry had not meant to raise his voice that loud and regretted it as soon as Hermione and several of his schoolmates turned to face him in the hall. Hermione speared him with a sharp look before rushing down the corridor again, not slowing until she reached the staircase. It moved away from her just as she reached it and she had to stop and wait for another, allowing Harry to catch up with her.

"Please, just talk to me," he pleaded.

"And say what?" she hissed between her teeth. "Would you like me to say it's okay for you to disrupt class by walking in late and interrupting the professor? It's okay for you to embarrass me and yourself by putting on that display?" She put one hand up and began counting off points on her fingers. "Is it okay for you to forget everything I've supposedly meant to you almost overnight?" Struggling to take a deep breath, she continued in a lower voice, aware of the other students behind them waiting to use the stairs. "Should I say it's fine that you disappeared with no explanation yesterday, you avoided me last night and now you're acting like I'm the one with the problem?"

Harry sighed. "No, I--"

"I don't want to hear it, Harry." Hermione turned then and jumped onto the staircase as it was moving into place, going down the stairs two and three at a time until she reached the dungeons. Harry caught up with her outside the hall that lead to Snape's office. "I thought you were just stressed out," she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. "I thought you wouldn't do this, but I was wrong."

"You said you'd give me a chance to explain everything. After the meeting--"

"After the meeting, we have Double Potions. I'm not going to be late on our first day back because you don't feel like having the responsibility anymore."

"Responsibility?" Harry resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. Hermione had a flair for making everything more complicated than it needed to be. His life was complex enough without that.

"Yes," she said, frustration making her face flush red. "You can't stand to be at home, you don't want to do anything at school, and with me, you--Harry, you can't just throw everything away and decide not to participate in your own life."

"I'm not--"

"No," she said. "Now it's your turn to listen to me. I know you're angry about your mother, you--" Hermione swallowed and dropped her eyes away from his. "You probably regret telling me you love me and want to b-be with me, but you can't just pretend like none of it ever happened and try to act like everything can go back to the way it was." Her eyes lifted to his again and Harry felt gutted as he realized they were filled with tears. "I know things haven't been easy for you, but you can't just turn back the clock and refuse to grow up. Stop running away. Your life is changing and you have to deal with all of it, whether you want to or not."

The flood of words stopped as the door to Snape's office opened and he stepped out, his cold gaze surveying the two at the end of the hall. He returned to his office wordlessly, letting the door slam behind him.

"Whatever you want to say to me, let it wait until lunch," Hermione said. "I think I'll be ready to deal with you then."

Then she walked down the hall and into Snape's office, leaving Harry to follow, a hurt he hadn't thought he'd experience at her hands just beginning to take root.

Cool blue eyes surveyed the figure on the bed over half-moon spectacles. Frown lines etched into the old, worn face, making the wizard appear much older than his already advanced years. One hand moved to stroke the long white beard slowly before dropping to join it's mate, clasped before his waist. Dumbledore paced back and forth in front of the bed slowly, the bottoms of his deep purple robes swishing over the floor.

"Is it the same as before?" he asked no one in particular.

"I believe so, Minister," Healer Sprout responded. "We'll have to conduct several more tests, but it looks to be the same illness."

"And Lily Snape?"

"I--" The Healer looked around and the nurse nodded encouragingly, her movement unseen by Dumbledore. "After he was brought in last night, we asked Mr. Ollivander to identify the wand the young man carried. He identified the boy, but Mrs. Snape informed us this morning that Harry Potter is at Hogwarts. She never indicated that his wand might be miss--"

"Is she sure it is her son?" Dumbledore asked this in the same quiet tone, but the slow, careful way he asked brought a tension into the room that had not existed before.

"I...well, wouldn't she know?"

Dumbledore turned to face the Healer, the small frown on his face turned into a full-out scowl. "If this person is using Polyjuice Potion or some other means to disguise himself, there is no way of telling who is among the students at Hogwarts. There is no doubt in my mind that this boy," he pointed to the bed, his voice rising, "is Harry James Potter. I have known him since he was an infant and his parents long before that." His hand lowered and clenched into a fist at his side. The Healer stepped back, her eyes widening at the anger in Dumbledore's eyes.

He turned back to Harry. The boy's eyes moved beneath his fluttering lids, but he did not wake.

"Do what you can to get this boy in a state to talk and notify me the moment he wakes. Whoever did this to him is dangerous and must be stopped."

Headmistress McGonagall felt the presence of another person in the room before the older man cleared his throat from behind her. At the small noise, she turned and acknowledged the former Headmaster and current Minister of Magic with a small nod.

"There is a matter of grave importance to the school, Minerva," Dumbledore said without preamble.

She smiled and placed her quill upon the desk. "It always seems so with you, Albus. Has the Improper Use of Magic Office come up with new restrictions for the students? I assure you, I had enough explaining to do with parents when I had the students searched for, what was it? A lost batch of explosive quill ink. Has something similar happened? I thought you had warned them about losing defensive objects still under testing."

The portrait behind the desk had sat through this short speech in silence, and for a moment Minerva McGonagall thought it had returned to the normally still painting that sat behind her as Dumbledore conducted his work as Minister. If that was the case, she could expect him to step through her fireplace at any moment. When that did not happen, she inquired, "Albus? What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"One of the students has been attacked. At least, it appears so."

At this pronouncement, the Headmistress jumped from her desk and grabbed her wand from the blotter, intending to find the culprit before Dumbledore finished his explanation.

"Do you remember," Dumbledore began, "about ten years ago, when James Potter came down with that strange illness?"

"Oh, yes," she replied after a minute, twiddling her wand between her fingers. "I'll never forget it. He and Lily thought it was just an aggressive cold for months before she insisted he visit St. Mungo's. By then, there was nothing anyone could do. The suffering that poor young man endured before he finally died...I can't imagine--you're not saying one of my students has contracted this disease?"

"I'm saying Harry Potter was admitted to St. Mungo's last night and he appears to be suffering the early symptoms of that same illness."

"Could it be something that runs in his family?" McGonagall turned to her door quickly before facing the portrait again. "I was concerned that he hadn't made it to dinner last night. Miss Granger assured me he was merely tired." Her hands began twisting back and forth over each other. "I should speak to Professor Snape about this. He'll want to get in touch with his wife and go to the hospital."

"They were both notified this morning, I was told," Dumbledore said, arresting her movements. "Lily Snape responded to the hospital's Owl that her son had arrived at Hogwarts last night. She visited him this morning and informed the hospital that he is at school, unharmed. Minerva," his eyes narrowed from the painting behind the desk, "I was in the hospital this morning. The boy Lily met with is not her son."

McGonagall's hand went to her chest and she stumbled backwards a step, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Well then, who is he? There's not some sort of invasion planned on the school, is there? You don't suspect--" She paused, letting the unspoken suspicion hang in the air.

"I have not formed any theories yet, though I cannot rule out Dark Magic. Harry was attacked before getting onto the Hogwarts Express; his belongings had already been loaded. They found him in one of the bathrooms in the Muggle part of the station, with a Disillusionment Charm cast to conceal him. His physical injuries were, and still are, severe. The attacker probably thought he would be dead by the time he was found.

"I would like you to bring the person in question to this office and reverse the effects of Polyjuice Potion, if that is what he is using to disguise himself. Also, I am giving you permission to use Veritaserum. As much as you need." She gasped at this. "Whoever he is," Dumbledore continued, "it is quite possible he is the one that gave both James and Harry this dreadful disease. None of the Healers can determine the exact cause. There's a chance it is from both a potion and curse. He is the only key we have to curing it."

"And you'll remain in the office while I question him? If he's really that dangerous--"

"I'll have Aurors here on standby. Once we get the information we need, I'll have him arrested. I would never let you come to harm, Minerva," Dumbledore said, a surprisingly gruff note affecting his voice. "And please, do not inform anyone of what you are doing. There is no way of knowing if he is working with anyone else."

"What about Professor Snape? Surely he should know his stepson could be gravely ill."

The former Headmaster paused. "I don't wish to alert anyone else until we can be absolutely sure of this," he finally responded. "The boy has been moved to a secure, private ward at St. Mungo's with only a few of the staff allowed to work on him and know his identity. He will be kept safe under my direction. Until we can be sure of who is at fault, I will take no chances."

Minerva McGonagall nodded and took a deep breath. "I'll still have to go to Professor Snape for Veritaserum. He's the only person in the castle who keeps a store on hand. I'll be right back." She began heading for the door.

"Please, Minerva, be careful. We cannot let on that we suspect him."

She peered over her shoulder at the Minister and responded, "I'll do my best."