Spellbound

Spellbound

By Suisan

Started: November 2002

Finished: June 2003

Looking out of the French doors that led to the small balcony, Jim realized the evening's weather gave him a ready-made reason to remain inside and basically turn into a slug. It was mid-October and, while not totally unusual for Cascade, the weather was unseasonably chill and the rain hadn't stopped for more than twenty minutes all day. He had the whole loft to himself - his roommate being out for the evening at the university -- and an illicit tome hidden under his bed, just begging to be read where prying eyes couldn't see.

And where Blair can't chide me for reading it if he caught me. James Ellison, lieutenant and lead investigator for the Cascade Police Department's Major Crime Division, smiled as he realized he was pretty much talking to himself. Which just goes to prove I've been hanging around Sandburg too long. Crossing the dining area back to the kitchen, Jim picked up the large mug of hot chocolate he'd made before heading over to the stairs leading up to his private domain.

Setting the oversized, hand thrown pottery mug on the bedside table, he dropped to his knees, reached under the bed and pulled a fairly large box out. Lifting the lid off the gaily-colored purple and confetti decorated box, Jim picked up the latest tome he'd managed to sneak past his ever-vigilant friend, partner and guide and smiled widely as he reverently placed the book on top of the bed. Replacing the lid and sliding the box back under the bed, he sat back on his heels and just stared at the dust jacket on the novel.

The cover was decorated in various shades of green, white spangles everywhere with the title of the book in orange and rust, but the character's title was embossed in what could only be described as antiquated bronze. Featured prominently in the center of the cover was a young man with unruly hair, broken, dark-framed glasses who was holding what appeared to be a shaped, short stick. If anyone knew he was reading this book, had all four books in the series hidden under his bed, and was anticipating the arrival of the fifth ... Jim would hear no end of the teasing.

Getting back to his feet, Jim crossed over to his chest of drawers, pulled out a set of comfortable sweats, then grabbed a freshly laundered towel from the metal shelving rack and padded downstairs for a hot shower. Grabbing the mug of hot chocolate on his way, he drank it down before leaving the cup in the sink and turning on the coffee maker as his passed though the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. Yes, tonight was a good night for empty calories, hot coffee and getting reacquainted with a good book.

****

In the short time he'd been in the shower, the storm outside the 800 block of Prospect Avenue had intensified as the temperature dropped down to a chilly forty degrees; or so Jim guessed as he felt a chill, light draft as he passed by the French doors leading to the balcony on his way back up to his lair with a poor-man's-mocha in his hand.

The hot drink was one he'd learned about in the few short years he'd spent in college, mix hot cocoa with coffee, adding sugar or cream if desired and poof. You had a drink that would give you enough energy to study most of the night without falling asleep on your books.

He paused at the top of the steps as lightning lit up the darkened loft, creating the perfect atmosphere for reading the book he'd chosen, a roll of thunder followed the flash of lightning. Jim closed his eyes as he counted off the seconds between the next burst of energy that filled the skylight until he felt the first vibrations of thunder tickle across his skin.

After a few minutes, Jim opened his eyes, placed the mug in his hand on the bedside table, picked up the novel and lay down on his bed. Carefully he removed the dust jacket from the hardbound tome, placed it on the small table, adjusted the pillows behind his back, turned on the reading lamp and basically settled into his nest. Only once he was totally comfortable, did he crack open the book and dive into the wonderful, fantastical world of a popular children's book.

He wasn't even aware of how much time had passed as he flipped through page after page until he dropped the book into his lap, his eyes closing. Harry, you really need to learn how to pay attention to the rules ... otherwise you'll end up in more trouble than Sandburg.

*~*~*~*

"Jim! Jimmy, wake up!" Trying to avoid the hand prodding at him, he rolled over in the warmth of his bed, but the baritone voice and rough shaking wouldn't quit. "Jimmy! Damn, we'll be late for breakfast if you don't get moving!"

"G'way." He batted, rather ineffectually, toward his tormentor.

"That's it." The hand left his shoulder but the voice wouldn't leave him alone. "Harry, help me out here?"

"Sure, Ron. Wingarium Leviosa!" Jim's dreams of flying over fields and ponds of a peaceful countryside were abruptly ended when the heavy blankets covering him suddenly went missing.

"Hey!" Jim shot straight up in the bed as the cool air of the fifth year's dormitory touched his thinly clad body and he slammed his eyes shut as the weak morning sunlight streaming in through the windows pierced his brain. He reached blindly for his covers, thinking they'd be at the foot of the bed, but when he couldn't locate them by groping around, he cautiously cracked open his eyes to see the blankets floating about four meters above him. Shivering, he looked to see who his tormentors were and realized he'd been had by his fellow classmates. Dark-haired Harry was sitting at one of the desks, his wand conspicuously present in right hand, but Ron was still standing near Jim's bed, a wide grin on his face.

"'Bout time you got up," the red head announced as he stomped back over to his own bed, "Thought I was going to have to light a Filibuster under you to get you to move."

"If you had, I'd have to hurt you, Weasley," Jim growled as he reached for his white uniform shirt hanging on a peg near his bed.

"Oooh, I'm scared..." Ron pretended to shake as he tossed his black robe over his school uniform.

"Watch it, Ron. Jim here didn't make the team as back-up Beater to your brothers because of his looks. He's bloody wicked with his aim on the Bludgers." Harry flicked his wand in a casual manner and Jim had to jump to one side as the pile of blankets fell back to the bed. "Sorry about the rude wake up, but Ron's right, Jim. If we don't hurry down to the Great Hall, all that will be left is crumbs." Harry tucked his wand into a pocket of his robes and gathered his books from the desk before heading out of the dorm, Ron right behind him.

"Right." Jim hurriedly finished dressing, not bothering to tie the gold and scarlet necktie, shoving his feet into his black running shoes. Then he grabbed his black robe and books as he bolted out the door and hurried down to the Gryffindor Common Room. His second month at Hogwarts wasn't starting out any better than his first month, but at least he was finally rid of the horrid faux-French accent he'd picked up while going to school at Beauxbatons. His father was still living on the continent, working for Gringotts, but he'd sent Jim to Hogwarts before William transferred to Gringotts' Edinburgh branch.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was fairly uneventful and the usual morning lull gave him time to pull out his Arithmancy and Potions work and look it over before heading to class. It was fairly routine to see students from every house doing the same thing, and Jim didn't protest much when Hermione Granger snagged his Potions essay and started looking it over. He just resented the idea that he needed help in making sure his wording wasn't too awful. The hall was filled with muted sounds of quills scratching over parchment and people muttering under their breath as they worked out proper pronunciations for various charms, hexes and spells and he found his attention wandering away from his Arithmancy theories, drawn to a quiet conversation a few places up the table.

Fred and George Weasley were showing their friend, Lee Jordan, something they didn't bring above the boards. The three older students had a brilliant reputation of being pranksters, as Jim found out on his first day in Hogwarts. One of the twins had slipped him a Canary Cream that evening and Jim had spent a miserable fifteen minutes trying not to scratch the irritating, yellow feathers off his body. Once the feathers had finally disappeared from his body, his skin had been uncommonly sensitive for weeks, to the point to where the lightest touch and softest fabrics felt like torturous assaults.

A light hand touched his forearm where it rested on the table as a soft voice asked, "Jim, are you all right this morning?"

Turning to face Hermione, Jim shook his head, his attention returning from the excited whispers of the pranksters. "Yeah, just gathering wool."

"Fine. Look, you're finally catching up to the rest of our Arithmomancy class, but you still need work on your Potions essay." She reached out to tap the sheet of paper his Potions homework was on with the dry tip of her quill. "You surely meant to put 'stir four times clockwise' instead of 'to the right' -- correct it or Professor Snape will rip you in class later today."

"Hey! Why do you help him like that when you won't let us chea ... Ooouff!" Ron's protest was cut off as Harry elbowed him in the ribs but not before Hermione could figure out what he meant.

"It's quite simple, Ron. Jim spent his first four years learning his lessons in French and, on occasion, he still manages to put his answers down in that language or in the wrong syntax. He's right, most of the time, just has the wrong wordings and you know how Professor Snape can be about precise wording." She flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she nailed Ron with one of her patented expressions of disapproval, "Besides, it's not cheating to help Jim get the correct wording -- whereas what *you* want to do is *copy* my work and claim it as yours. Honestly, how ever are you going to pass your O.W.L.s if you don't learn the material yourself?"

Jim exchanged an amused glance with Harry, who was sitting across the table from him next to Ron, before making the correction Hermione had suggested. He was about to pose a question to Harry when the torches and candle chandeliers overhead flickered from yellow-orange flames to eerie purple-blue. Then a bell quietly chimed through the halls, signaling the end of the breakfast hour and the start of the fifteen-minute period of morning rush.

"Dang, we're running late. Come on, Ron or we'll be late to our Divination class." Harry jumped up from his seat and practically ran out of the hall, leaving Ron to hurry to catch up. Hermione calmly gathered up her books and Jim collected his. He was fortunate enough to have his first class of the week with Hermione but he wasn't looking forward to it. After all, Arithmancy wasn't his strongest subject. Neither's potions, for that matter. Face it, Jimmy, if all of your classes could be Herbology, Transfigurations or Flying Lessons you'd be far better off.

He had to break into a fast trot to catch up with Hermione and the rest of his Arithmancy classmates or risk being late for Professor Vector's class. And while Vector wasn't as bad as Professor Snape about taking House Points away for tardiness, he was almost savage in the way he handed out Detentions -- especially for students who should've adapted to the local time zone weeks ago.

***

Hermione wondered if Jim had really been paying attention to her advice about Arithmancy. She kept her gaze glued to the floor, her brain running in circles as she made her way through the halls behind her fellow Housemate to their next class. He'd totally blown an all-too-easy to answer question of Professor Vector's, costing Gryffindor five house points, and she knew Jim knew the subject matter. After all, he'd had it correct on the homework he'd turned in and she knew that because she'd checked it over on their way to class.

As she walked into the dungeon hall which served as the Potions classroom, Hermione ran into Jim Ellison's back as the new Gryffindor came to a sudden stop in the middle of the aisle. With several students behind her starting to protest the abrupt halt, she reached out and poked the tall student in the ribs, getting no response. "Jim?" She moved around his still body to see that he was staring blankly ahead.

She was waving a hand in front of Jim's face when a commotion in the crowd behind him caught her attention, and she peeked around her fellow Gryffindor's shoulder to see Harry and Ron working their way through the crush. "Hermione, what's the hold up?"

"I'm not sure, Harry." She reached out once again to prod Jim in the ribs, but there was still no response. "Something's wrong with Jim." She moved aside as Harry came around Jim to stand beside her. "He's obviously staring at something, but I can't tell what or why it's holding his attention so hard."

Harry reached out to place a hand on Jim's shoulder when Ron, jostled by someone, rudely bumped into the transfixed student, knocking him into Harry and forcing Hermione to catch Jim as the group fell to the floor. The snickering coming from behind Ron had all the trademarks of a Slytherin and Hermione wasn't surprised to see Malfoy, Goyle and Crabbe smiling sweetly as they pushed their way through the crowd. Ignoring the antics of Draco and his buddies, Hermione looked up find Jim staring at her with his piercing blue eyes, a very confused expression on his face. Whatever had been wrong with him was obviously cleared up, but before she could question him about what had happened, Jim had gotten to his feet. She accepted his hand to get off the floor, and then she reached out to help Harry up as Jim turned to assist Ron.

Hermione was picking up her book bag when a cold voice issued forth into the classroom, "This is Potions class, not a public arena for social behaviors. Take your seats and ten points from Gryffindor for causing a disruption in my class." Students scattered as silence fell across the dungeon chamber.

Barely holding her tongue, Hermione made her way to her desk, pulling Ron along even as Harry tugged at Ellison's robe and the four of them sat at the large, round table they had been assigned to at the start of the year.

"Now that we've had our *fun* for the day, pull out your assignments and open your books to page 489." With a wave of his wand, fires were lit under the cauldrons and Professor Severus Snape began the day's lesson. "You will find the ingredients for today's assignment in your cupboards, along with a few that are NOT to be used. Gather them now and begin. I'll collect your essays as I check your progress." Hermione started to rise from her seat to grab the items needed for the mood-altering potion they were to brew when Snape's voice lashed out. "Sit down, Ms. Granger. Ellison, you will pick up the potion components for your table while Potter and Weasley start preparing them."

Silent chuckles from the various Slytherin tables hissed around the room and Hermione blushed as she resumed her seat. It wasn't the first time Professor Snape had singled her out in class, and probably wouldn't be the last, but in her mind it was grossly unfair for the Potions Master to pick on Ellison. The professor had to know the newest Hogwarts student hadn't *quite* caught up to the rest of the class in learning how to identify proper herbs, roots, oils and other ingredients. Watching Jim move over to the wall where their assigned cupboard was, she started to mutter under her breath. Hermione found herself hoping the lessons she'd been helping Ellison with had sunk in and he'd be able to pick out the proper herbs and in the right proportions.

***

Jim wasn't sure what had caught his attention when he'd walked into the Potions room, but coming back to awareness on the floor had been awkward and embarrassing. Starting off the class by being part of the reason, if not THE reason, for getting ten points taken away from their House wasn't any fun either. And now he'd been singled out by Professor Snape to do something he wasn't at all ready to try without backup.

Resigned to his fate, and the likelihood of screwing up, Jim rose from the table he shared with his Housemates and walked over to the cupboard. Using a simple unlocking spell, Jim opened the doors and looked at the nearly thirty vials, jars and bags stored within and wondered which ones he needed to assemble. Looking over his shoulder, hoping to catch the attention of one of his tablemates, he saw instead that the Potions Master was intently observing him. Turning his concentration back to the cupboard, Jim closed his eyes and tried to recall the first five ingredients they'd need - he knew that if he walked back to the table with those, he could possibly get a glance at the list and come back for the rest.

Noise started to assault his ears: the sound of flames crackling under cauldrons, scrolls being moved back and forth between students, quills scratching across the surface of various qualities of parchment, knives chopping herbs into smaller pieces, students breathing.... Then he heard it -- Hermione muttering off the list of items needed. Grinning, but making sure to keep his back to Professor Snape so the man wouldn't see his happiness, Jim started pulling items off the shelves in front of him. Placing the vials and bundles of herbs into a makeshift basket made by gathering up his robe, he managed to get everything they needed in one trip. Helping the others ready the ingredients for the concoction aided him to ignore the pulsating headache that had started to thrum through his head, vanquishing the giddy feeling that had engulfed him when he'd heard Hermione's mumerings.

***

It was his free hour and Blair loved coming to the massive library to scour the stacks for tomes of little known knowledge. There were other members of his House in the library at this hour, but he was the only one actively seeking out books. The rest of the fifth years seemed intent on reading assignments or working on homework. It was to be expected of Ravenclaws to be studious, but they were also supposed to have an innate desire to seek out knowledge, not just have it handed to them. In this, he knew he was one of the few 'Claws in his year, or higher for that matter, who actually lived up to the ideals set down by Rowena Ravenclaw.

He was in the section of the stacks that Madam Pince had pointed out to him as holding old textbooks and study guides for those wishing to seek employment with the Ministry of Magic when Blair spotted a tome that seemed horribly out of place. "Children Of The Hunt: The First Aurors" was the title on the worn spine of the book and he pulled it down off the shelf with reverent care. The cover was as worn as the spine, the leather cracking in several places and stained with oils from untold generations of reader's hands. He found himself wondering what the first Aurors were like, not that he intended on becoming one. He desired to teach Muggle Studies. He doubted there was anything in the book in his hands could tell him which would be helpful in pursuing that dream.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to read up on the old ones, might come in handy when comparing the job of the Aurors to the muggle peace officers. He started to read the book as he slowly wandered back to his table; he never noticed his way was blocked until he bumped, hard, into an obstacle. "Oh! Sorry, sorry..." He looked up to see the young woman standing in his way. "Sorry about that, Granger."

"More studying, Sandburg? Haven't you got enough under your hat?" From anyone else, the words could've been insulting, but coming from her with that challenging tone in her voice...

"Have you ever stopped studying, Ms. Granger? Please, tell me you're taking a break so I have a chance to overtake you in the academic point standings." He smiled at her, wriggling his eyebrows at her to get her to laugh, which worked.

"Only in your dreams, Sandburg. Ravenclaws may have the reputation for being more studious than Gryffindors, but this time around I plan to change that." She motioned for him to move out of her way with a sly grin crossing her face.

He moved aside to let Hermione pass him in the narrow passageway between the stacks, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "By yourself or are you planning on pushing knowledge into the minds of your friends, Potter and Weasley?" His brash words were awarded with a furious blush and he moved away from her before she could seek to retaliate. The rivalry between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, actually, between him and Hermione, had never been more intense than it had been this year. However, it was a good-natured rivalry and the professors were actually encouraging them to compete against each other.

Gryffindor may have won the House Cup the last four years, but it had been a neck-to-neck race the last two years for excellence in academic standing. The two reasons being Hermione Granger from Gryffindor and Blair Sandburg of Ravenclaw -- apparently Hermione still wasn't used to being put on notice that there might be someone more studious than her in Hogwarts. Blair had transferred in last year and started to his meteoric rise in his academic studies, much to the surprise of his fellow 'Claws, who had been positive the 'American chap' would never catch up in his studies.

Now his fellow 'Claws worked to help him study often trying to get test results earlier than Hermione or her two friends, the famous Harry Potter and his best friend Ron Weasley, could get to the results. If only so they could crow over the scores when Blair had managed to edge out over Hermione by the merest fraction of a point. It bothered him, a lot, for Blair wasn't one to brag about his scores and having others brag for him ... sitting down at a table tucked in an out of the way corner of the massive library, Blair Sandburg shrugged off his thoughts and dove into his reading.

***

Gryffindor had won the first match of the Quidditch season against Slytherin and the House tower was a raucous place, even if the two loudest partiers, Fred and George, were absent. It was well past midnight before the last of the crowd in the Common Room left to find their beds, as Ron pretended to toil over his Potions homework.

"Finally!" It was only Harry, Jim, Hermione and he still in the room and Ron gave up all pretenses, throwing his quill down in disgust. "I thought they'd never clear out. Jim, what the heck happened yesterday in Snape's class?"

"I'm not sure." Ellison laid down his quill and carefully replaced the cap on his inkwell.

"What do you remember?" Hermione barely looked up from the star chart she was working on.

"Not much." Jim stretched, scrubbing his face as if to wash away tension, "I remember walking into the classroom, hearing something that seemed out of place, then the next thing I knew we were falling all over each other."

"Nothing else though?" Harry asked as he put away his assignments.

"Nope. Just a nice, big empty place in my brain."

"Hmmm," Hermione hummed as she rolled up the parchment she'd been working on. "You know, I read somewhere that some epileptics have trouble with memory gaps but I didn't think wizards suffered from Epilepsy."

"Eppy-what?" Ron queried; he figured she was talking about a muggle thing, but wasn't sure.

"Epilepsy. Sometimes referred to as 'the falling disease.' People with the condition have seizures which can led to blackouts, really severe whole body spasms or a milder form where it seems like they're only gazing off into space."

He thought about it, trying to think if he'd ever heard of such a thing before, before shaking his head. "I don't think we've got anything like that in the wizarding world, Hermione. If we do, it's really rare."

"Maybe for pure bloods, Ron, but what about half bloods or muggle borns?" Harry asked, his gaze turning to Jim. "Not that it really matters but are you muggle born, Jim?"

"Nope. Dad married a fellow witch, who was from a good long line of wizarding blood, and the Ellisons have a pedigree that stretches back two centuries." Jim shrugged. "Or so Dad tells me. I don't really remember my mother."

"Did she pass away?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice.

"No. She just left one day, never came back."

"Ouch." Ron wanted to call back the word the second it left his mouth, but it was too late. "Sorry, mate. Okay, so if you're a pure blood there's not much chance you have this 'epyleapsee' thing Hermione brought up. What about a spell or a jinx? Maybe one of the Slytherins cast one at you and it sent you into a state."

"Wouldn't put that pass any of them, especially Malfoy or Parkinson, but I don't recall seeing any of them with a wand out afterwards," Harry spoke up as he closed his schoolbag.

"I didn't notice any either, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a spell induced state."

"I really don't think someone hit me with a spell, Ron. I've been struck by quite a few in Charms and it just didn't feel like that." Jim bounced up from his chair, startling Crookshanks out from under it, as he started to pace.

"You know," Hermione spoke up again, "It wouldn't hurt to go to Madam Pomfrey or even Professor McGonagall..."

"No!"

Ron jumped as Jim spoke sharply behind him.

"Sorry, Hermione but I don't want anyone to know about this. I haven't had another fit since Potions class yesterday so maybe it was a one time fluke and won't happen again."

"But what if it does? What if it happens while you're playing Quidditch?"

Ron shook his head at Hermione's worried tone, she didn't much care for flying and she'd regularly work herself into a state before a game that Harry, Fred and George played in.

"You lose control of your broom in the middle of match and you may well end up in the care of Madam Pomfrey."

"It won't happen again." If the power behind Jim's words could keep it from happening, then Ron halfway could believe his fellow fifth year.

"You can't be sure of that, Jim." Ron stood up to face his pacing friend and reached out to grab a sleeve to make him stop. "If it does happen, who's going to be there to knock you out of it?"

"I can watch out for him out there on the pitch." Harry answered.

"You are supposed to watch for and catch the Snitch." Ron spun around to look at Harry. "You screw that up and Angelina will nail your hide to the nearest door."

"True, she's acting more and more like Oliver every day."

He was pleased to hear that Harry agreed with him.

"By the way, did you notice the announcement on the board, Ron? About Quidditch tryouts on Monday?"

"Yeah, I did. Not sure I'll be there; I'm still thinking it over." Ron shrugged, recalling how his mom had been when she showed up in the hospital wing after getting an owl from Professor McGonagall. She'd been upset to find two of her children had been seriously hurt, and then she'd berated George for continuing to play in the Quidditch match when he'd broken a bone. She'd been quiet about it, as Fred was in the next bed over from his twin with more of a severe injury and unconscious, but she'd really let George have it and her words still rang in Ron's ears. Shaking his head clear of the memory, Ron turned his attention back to Jim and away from Quidditch. "Anyway, we really can't take any chances with you, Jim. You're the only one who can step in to take Fred's place if he's not cleared in time for the next match. If it was a spell or a jinx that caused your problem in Potions, we need to find a way to stop it from happening again."

"Yeah, I know." Jim sat back down, but balanced on the edge of his seat. "I just don't want to have to go to Pomfrey again, she's already clucking at me over the headache cure I had to get from her after that incident."

"So that's where you disappeared to! I wondered why you were late to dinner last night." Harry shook his head. "You missed hearing Malfoy talking about placing a bet on Slytherin to win today's match, not knowing Professor Vector was standing right behind him. He ended up with a detention for gambling."

"Well, I could either go to Pomfrey for the potion or risk puking dinner." Jim faked barfing over the table, making Hermione jump and causing Ron and Harry to laugh. "Sorry, but I preferred drinking her vile tasting concoction, being late to the table and keeping my food in my stomach."

"We're getting off track again," Hermione glared at Jim for his antics before she jumped back into the conversation. "Jim, maybe between the four of us we can find out what happened to you and make sure it doesn't happen again. Would you be okay with that?"

"Just us four, no one else, right?"

Ron nodded in agreement even as Harry and Hermione did the same. "If that's the way you want it, Jim, then yeah."

"All right. No one else and I mean it."

"We'll handle it 'in house' so to speak. No one will know about what happened to you except Harry, Hermione and me."

Jim sighed, letting his body fall back into his chair from where he'd perched on the edge of the seat. "Sounds good to me. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm beat and it's way past my bedtime."

Ron looked up at the timekeeper on the wall above the bulletin board and let out a groan. "Bloody hell! It's two in the freaking morning, I didn't realize it was so late."

"I think we all need to go to bed," Hermione piped up as she neatly packed her school bag while Ron shoveled his papers and books into his sack. "We can start figuring out what happened to Jim in class later today."

***

Angelina Johnson watched as the Gryffindor Quidditch team filed into their locker room Monday. Two days had passed since their disastrous match against Slytherin. Gryffindor had won the game, but at a severe cost. Fred Weasley had taken a Bludger to the head and his brother, George, had gotten clobbered in the hip later in the game. Worse, the team only had one back-up Beater and while Jim Ellison was good, at the pace a Quidditch game could fly it just wasn't reasonable to expect the new student to cover the whole pitch. Angelina was of a mind to find secondaries for the other positions as well. She stopped pacing in front of the strategy board and faced her teammates, determined to fill the positions she needed that afternoon even if it killed everyone.

"Right now, gather 'round. Harry, you're going work as one of the Beaters in the opposing team in this little dust up, got it? No ... don't give me that line about you not being a Beater, Oliver told me how good you could be." She smiled at the Seeker to soften the blow of her words, but she meant everything she'd said. "I'll take our hopefuls up with me but we also need to look for other backups as well. Like for your position, Harry, you know, just in case. You've taken way too many hits over the past few years for us to rely on only one Seeker."

"Its not like I seek to get clobbered, Angelina, but it happens, especially to Seekers -- you know that," Harry pointed out to her, a small grin crossing his expressive face.

"I know, Harry." Angelina hadn't wanted the Captaincy, but once she got it she'd vowed to do Oliver Wood proud. "We got nailed hard Saturday against Slytherin and since both Fred and George are out of action until Madam Pomfrey clears them, we need to seriously train up replacements." The rest of the team nodded and made noises of agreement with her. "I also know we've all been looking for others who might have the skills needed to show up today and they're due here on the field in a few minutes. So go get warmed up and be prepared to work your brooms off." She waved the team off, watching as they took to the skies above the green and then walked over to the entrance to the pitch where interested students were gathered.

She wasn't too surprised to see how many fifth years were waiting for her but there was a healthy mix of second, third and fourth years as well. Even the Creevy brothers had shown up, minus Colin's ever-present camera, and she found herself wondering if either of them had the ... uh ... intestinal fortitude to handle action in a match. Glancing over the gathering of students, two of the hopefuls caught her attention. Knowing his passion for the sport, she wasn't startled to see Ron Weasley waiting to try out for the team; she was a little shocked to see Ginny there.

If Ron and Ginny both end up making the team, we might as well rename ourselves the Gryffindor Weasleys... She shook off her thoughts as she gathered the hopefuls, led them into the team's locker room and began to prep them for the upcoming trials.

***

Harry followed the rest of the Quidditch team into the air, feeling the rush of joy he usually felt when flying, and tried hard to catch up with Jim and Alicia. For all of Jim's build, he was unusually fast on a broom and not afraid to play a rousing game of tag either. In fact, that was how the team loved to warm up -- once Harry, Jim and Hermione had explained the basic concept of the muggle game to them -- since it required speed and agility to 'tag' whomever your target was. Right now, Harry was 'it' and moving in fast behind Alicia in an effort to mark the seventh year Chaser. She was using Jim's presence to block Harry from getting in a clean touch so Harry opted to change targets.

Diving toward the ground, he maneuvered under Ellison's position, making the Beater lose sight of him and forcing Jim to slow down. As Jim looked over his shoulder, Harry pulled up on his broom and put on a burst of extra speed -- being a seeker had its advantages -- and sped by Jim as he reached out to tap the larger student on the shoulder. With a jubilant peel of laughter, Harry zoomed away from Jim, nearly unseating Alicia in his wake, and climbed to the rarefied height he loved to use when seeking the snitch in regulation play.

From that position he could see the hopefuls exit the locker room and enter the field. Harry knew Seamus, Dean and Ron had intended to try out for the team, so he wasn't surprised to see them, but spotting Ginny Weasley entering the field, broom in hand, nearly caused him to lose his balance. He knew Ginny to be a good flyer, for they'd played against each other that past summer at the Burrow, but he never knew she'd entertained the idea of trying out for the team. In his mind, Ginny was too small, too slight and too fragile to seriously consider playing on a Quidditch team, and Harry wasn't too sure how he felt about the idea.

Regaining his composure, Harry heard Angelina blow a sharp tone on her Captain's whistle. As he started back down toward the green, Harry noticed Jim wasn't responding to the call back. The Beater seemed to be just floating in the air, hovering on his broom as he slowly started to slip sideways, threatening to unseat himself.

Damn, not another attack! Harry, Ron, and Hermione had talked about Jim's "fit" in Potions class again before heading out to the Quidditch field. They had all agreed to keep an eye on Jim, to make sure he didn't come to harm if he 'flaked out' again. In the air, in the middle of a practice, it was up to Harry to try to snap Jim out of his state of inattention. Coming up alongside Jim, Harry reached out and grabbed the other student's broom, steadying it, and started to softly speak to him.

"Jim, come on, snap out of it. You do not want to hit the ground from this height, it'll hurt, a lot, and I'm talking from experience here." Harry gently shook the broom and it seemed to work, for Jim suddenly turned his head to face Harry, a worried expression crossing the Beater's face. "Welcome back, Jimmy."

"Damn, it happened again, didn't it?" Harry nodded in agreement as the two of them started to fly slowly down to the Quidditch field to join the rest of the team.

"Yeah, any idea what triggered it this time?"

"Not a clue, just like in Potions." Jim dropped the nose of his broom and fairly zipped down to the ground, leaving Harry to catch up with him.

From the set of Jim's shoulders, Harry sensed his teammate didn't want to discuss what had happened above the Quidditch pitch and decided to drop the matter for now. There would be time enough in the dorm later to talk about the potential difficulties of having a team member who could enter a fugue state without warning. Harry just hoped Jim wouldn't decide to leave the team -- he was too good of a Beater and the team needed him too much.

He was about ten feet above the ground, readying himself to land, when Harry spotted something moving under the bleachers near the Slytherin locker room. His sharp seeker eyes picked out the tall form and dark, lank hair of Professor Snape as he disappeared into the locker room. What is he doing here?

***

Jim wasn't staggered when the Creevy brothers didn't make the team, having been knocked off their brooms rather easily by speeding fliers. Everyone had been pleased when both Ron and Ginny Weasley made the lineup, along with Seamus and Dean. What didn't seem to surprise anyone was Seamus Finnegan had made the team as a reserve Beater and Dean Thomas was looking really good as a Keeper. Alicia was pleased with that, as she was sick of playing in a position she'd never trained for and didn't like. The Gryffs also had a new Chaser. Ron had awed the rest of the team with his skill at avoiding the Bludgers Jim had kept sending his way, and with his accuracy in getting the Quaffle past Dean and Alicia.

Then the biggest surprise had come when Ron's sister showed her versatility, playing in all positions well. Jim realized Ginny Weasley might not have the upper body strength to work the Bludgers but she had the speed, dexterity and accuracy for Keeper, Chaser and Seeker. But with two backup Beaters the Gryffindors didn't need another. They did want a secondary Keeper for Dean (veterans of the team never let rookies forget how many times Oliver Wood had taken severe hits). Harry now had someone to cover his position in case he was incapacitated, something that didn't seem to make Ron or Harry very happy, Jim noted as he and the rest of the expanded team made their way back to the school.

Angelina had tapped him as a secondary Beater weeks ago when she'd heard about his work on one of the Beauxbatons teams. It had surprised Jim quite a bit, as Beauxbatons hadn't run Quidditch teams like Hogwarts did. Oh, they loved the game but only ran two 'house' teams during the school year, leaving students to organize pickup teams and matches on their own. Looking back on his time at the French School, Jim was surprised he'd even made the 'blue' team in his fourth year there because competition for the few positions available every year was, to say the least, intense. And even though his father had sent him a note saying how pleased he was that Jim had made the Quidditch team, he'd never tried to attend any of the matches.

"Jim! Wait up a bit, will ya?" He turned around to see Angelina trotting across the pitch, her team robes flying. He paused to let her catch up.

"What's up, Angelina?"

"You worked several positions on your Beauxbaton Quidditch team, right?" Jim nodded his head. "Great! Uh, would you mind helping Ginny work out a schedule for training? Maybe work with her, Ron and Harry once in a while to help her learn how to handle juggling the positions?"

Jim halted, his hand reaching out to pull on the seventh year's robe, effectively stopping her in her tracks. "Whoa! Just how many positions have you assigned Ginny to as a reserve?"

"Three. Seeker, Chaser and Keeper." Angelina looked at him with an odd expression on her face. "Don't look so shocked, Jim. I know you played nearly every position back in France, and Ginny's tougher than she looks, she can handle it."

"Look, I mostly played Beater and only subbed, once in a very great while, in the other three slots and Keeper wasn't my strong suit." He couldn't see how the team was going to train Dean and Ginny as Keeper and secondary Keeper when Alicia didn't like the position and no one else seemed to like it much either.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Professor McGonagall's supposed to be looking into that for me. But don't you go blabbing that to anyone, it's still very hush-hush and if I hear one whisper about it, I'll know who's to blame."

"Like I have a clue what you're talking about. Are you sure you didn't get clobbered by a bludger when I wasn't looking?" Jim let go of her robe and started walking again, once more leaving Angelina to catch up to him.

"Oh, very funny," she responded with a gentle head slap against the back of his skull as she raced past him, practically daring him to retaliate. Jim decided to ignore her taunt as his attention was drawn to a figure sitting on the edge of the pitch near the entrance used by non-playing fans of Quidditch. Slightly changing the path he was walking to exit the pitch, he studied the student. Taking in the house crest and colors on the robes, he wondered why anyone from another house would be watching the practice.

The student spoke up as Jim moved to pass him. "Looks like Gryffindor has a pretty good line up."

"Our Captain thinks so." He stopped, using the opportunity to really study his fellow schoolmate, noticing the notebook the other was stuffing into his robe's pocket. "You out here enjoying the sunshine?"

"Yeah. I'm Blair Sandburg by the way, Ravenclaw - in case you couldn't guess."

"Jim Ellison." Jim shook the proffered hand. "I don't think I recognize you; you in fifth year?"

"Yeah." Sandburg fell into step beside him as Jim turned to continue the long walk back to the castle. "I don't know how we've managed it, but I don't think we have any classes together."

Jim nodded, still wondering what had drawn the Ravenclaw to the Quidditch pitch.

"You have a really wicked way of handling the Bludgers. Very impressive how you managed to do the Bludger Backbeat off-hand flip and send the ball where you wanted it."

"Yeah," Jim smiled, accepting the compliment, and now knew why the student had been on the pitch - he was Quidditch mad. "It's not easy as it takes a strong wrist but done right it can really throw off the Chasers on the opposing team and bamboozle the Beaters."

"Picked up the move by watching the pro teams, didn't you?"

Jim nodded in reply, hoping the other wouldn't ask what team he followed - the Quiberion Quafflepunchers were good, but their team colors were pink -- and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. When they reached the main hall, they parted company and Jim started to walk up the steps toward his House when Seamus and Dean caught up to him.

"Jim! Why were you talking to a member of the Ravenclaw team?" Dean asked and suddenly Jim understood why Sandburg had been watching the practice. Cursing under his breath, he ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor Common Room. He had to find Angelina and warn her their moves and strategies had been observed, and they probably should make an effort to come up with a new game plan for their match against Ravenclaw.

***

"So you think Professor Snape did something to cause Jim to have a fugue fit?" Hermione asked after Harry had related the incident on the pitch to her and Ron. Weasley had been too busy keeping the other Quidditch team members from getting the Quaffle into the goal hoops to have seen what had happened. How Harry had sighted the Potions Master slinking off the pitch right after he'd managed to pull the erratic back-up Beater out of his latest apathy attack.

"I can't think of any other reason for him to have been there on the pitch, can you?" Harry paced around the small area in front of the empty fireplace, his hands restlessly combing through his wayward hair. "You've both seen how he seems to have transferred his ... disdain for me onto Jim since he arrived from France. It's like what happened to me for the first four years, only this time it's someone else Professor Snape's taken a dislike to and I can't seem to figure out why."

"Harry's got a point, Hermione." Ron nodded and turned to face her as Harry continued his slow pacing. "You've seen how the git--"

"Professor Snape, not git. Not even in our private thoughts, Ron."

"Whatever. You're missing the point, which is very unusual for you, which is that Snape has taken to picking on Jim every chance he gets. I mean, we've lost how many House Points since Jim transferred in and started attending Potions class with us? A hundred or more?"

"Ninety." Trust Hermione to know the exact number. "But not all of those were taken from Jim. Some were from you, Neville and Harry."

"Too right. And have you, in your brilliant mind, stopped to work out the percentages? I have." Ron pulled a small piece of parchment from his robe's pocket and read off the figures. "Neville's claimed about 10% of the points, Harry about 30 and I lost roughly 25% -- leaving the rest completely to Jim and that's just since last Wednesday."

Hermione put her hand out toward Ron, silently demanding he turn over his math work to her, and she pulled out a quill to double check his figures. "Damn, you're right, Ron."

"Thanks."

"I never realized it before now, but Professor Snape's taken approximately 65% of the total points lost to our House in his class from Jim. No wonder he's been seeming a bit down." Hermione looked up at Harry. "I don't remember the Professor being so hard on any of us in our first years here."

He managed a weak smile. "That's because you weren't there in his office after he caught Ron and I at the start of our second year. 'You were seen ... by no less than seven Muggles'." Harry mimicked the Potion Master's voice and mannerisms perfectly. "I was sure we were toast." Harry slipped his robe off, dropping it across the low table before he sat down on the edge of it, directly across from his two friends. "The problem, as I see it, is proving Professor Snape's being unfair to Ellison and making sure the other professors see him doing it."

"But how?" Ron asked, his face a study of confusion.

"That's what I'm hoping Hermione might be able to help us with."

"Me? Harry, I'm not sure--"

Ron interrupted her. "No, Harry's right, Hermione. If anyone in this school can suss out why Snape's being so hard on Ellison, it's you. You're one of the, if not THE, brightest students in Hogwarts."

Harry wasn't sure he'd have laid the compliments on quite that thick, but Ron had a point. There was only one other student in the whole of Hogwarts this year that had a chance of taking the Academic Achievement Award from Hermione, but he was in Ravenclaw and this was a Gryffindor matter. It had to be handled in House without assistance from others, unless they ran into a snag, then he'd write his godfather to see what Sirius thought of the matter.

"Fine. I'll look into it. But don't expect miracles from me, and I might need to call in reinforcements." Hermione sank back into the large chair, her arms crossed over her chest as a thoughtful expression settled on her face. It was a posture Harry and Ron were all too familiar with and they knew it was time to leave their friend alone with her ponderings.

Moving quietly away from the fireplace, they joined Ginny and Seamus, who were playing a rather violent game of wizard's chess on Ron's favorite board. Dean and Jim were sitting at the other end of the long study table, clearly talking about muggle football, not a subject that Ron, or most young wizards and witches, would care for. Harry nodded to Ron as he wandered off to join in the conversation between Jim and Dean while Ron sat next to Ginny to watch her work her strategies.

Harry didn't notice when Hermione disappeared from her spot. Once he did he wasn't sure where she'd gone. Spotting Parvati he called her over to the table. "Did you happen to see where Hermione went, Parvati?"

Patil snorted, "The Library. Where else would Granger go at this hour?" Then Parvati joined Lavender Brown and the two of them disappeared up the stairs to the Girl's Dormitory.

Turning his attention back to the conversation, Harry relaxed a little, knowing Hermione was on the case and would update him and Ron as soon as she'd started on the right plane of attack. For, as per her usual, that would be when she'd call upon Harry and Ron to help her track information in the Restricted Section. Even as the thought crossed his mind, Harry made a mental note to dig up his father's special cloak from the bottom of his trunk and place it where he could access it in a hurry.

***

Sandburg nearly jumped out of his seat when a stack of books slammed onto the table he was sitting at. Blair looked up to see Hermione Granger pulling a chair out and seating herself behind the lopsided stack. "Granger! You trying to give me heart failure?"

"Sorry," she replied in a distracted tone as she pulled a book off the top of the stack she'd dropped and opened it.

Scowling he returned his attention to the passage he'd been reading in Children Of The Hunt and tried to ignore his tablemate. But his eyes kept drifting back to the stack she'd dropped and scanning the titles. "What are you hunting for, Granger?"

She looked up from her book, on obscure hexes, jinxes and other near dark magics. "Nothing much."

"Uh-huh." He reached out and lightly touched the spines of the books leaning precariously and mumbled the titles, "Hexes That Hurt, Jinxes to Befuddle... Granger, this isn't exactly light reading."

"I know that, Sandburg. Just had a sudden thought and wanted to see if there was a spell or something that could counter--" Her head came up as she snapped shut the book she was reading, Dangerous Jinxes, and reached for the one on hurting hexes.

"So it's not something that came up in Charms or Transfiguration?" He pulled Dangerous Jinxes toward him and flipped it open toward the section he'd seen her reading. "Eew... This can't be good. Granger, are you studying to join a dueling club or something? Some of these are really nasty spells..."

"No. Not a club." Brown eyes rose from the book in front of her to stare at him and Blair felt a sudden need to push away from the table and get the hell out of the library. He didn't move fast enough. Granger had grasped the front his school robe and was slowly reeling him in closer to her. "I need your help, Sandburg."

"Let go and we'll talk about it, or I'll risk losing a few dozen house points and hex you myself." To back his words, Blair freed his wand of its pocket. While not exactly pointing it at the suddenly spooky and intense Gryffindor, he did have it ready.

"Fine." Granger released her hold on his robe so unexpectedly that Blair nearly fell to the floor before recovering by landing without any grace in the chair next to her. "Would you really have hexed me?"

He tried to ignore the pouty look on her face. "No, no. Probably not. Maybe. I dunno, you seemed really out of it and I wasn't sure what you were up to."

A winning smile crossed her face. "I didn't mean to scare you, Sandburg."

"You didn't scare me, Granger." He settled his robes around him and pocketed his wand. "Startled me, yes. Scared? Sorry, not in this lifetime." Trying to deflect her attention from him, Blair waved a hand at the stack of books. "So, what are you hunting for in all these old tomes?"

He listened attentively as Hermione started to talk, her voice a low whisper as if afraid someone would overhear her. Soon he found himself flipping through books alongside the frantic Gryffindor while they tried to find spells that could cause a person to enter a fugue state.

***

It had happened again, only this time the person to knock Jim out of his fugue state wasn't one of his housemates, but his Head of House. Jim sat as still as he could in the over-stuffed chair just outside of Madam Pomfrey's office. Professor McGonagall had dragged him there after rousing him in her Transfiguration Class. Even though the door to Pomfrey's office was securely closed, Jim could hear them talking quite clearly, and he shoved his fingers in his ears, feeling guilty about eavesdropping, however unintentional it might be. Finding that worthless, he moved away from the door. He'd gone as far as the infirmary's ward, and was leaning against the wall there when Professor Dumbledore entered the room and made his way over to Madam Pomfrey's office.

The door to the Mediwitch's office closed behind the Headmaster before Jim could make his way back to the chair he was supposed to be waiting in. And, to his disgust, the voices behind the door were no longer audible to him. Just when being able to listen in on private conversations might prove useful, my on-again, off-again talent craps out. Flopping his body down into the chair, he scrunched down and tried to extend his hearing once more - this time on purpose.

Agony lanced through his head, strong enough to make him nauseated, and his vision closed down into a tunnel. He cried out in pain and hands steadied him as they helped him over to a bed found himself swallowing one of Madam Pomfrey's vile-tasting potions as it was forced down his throat. The liquid had no sooner touched his tongue than the pain started to recede. Jim was able to see again, but he kept his eyes mostly closed, using his lashes as a type of filter. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were standing patiently at the foot of his bed, but neither one was looking directly at him so he feigned unconsciousness to see what he could learn.

"I wish you would hold off, Headmaster. I'm not sure young Ellison is ready to be questioned, at least not until I can fully diagnose what happened to him."

"It can't be helped, Poppy," Dumbledore answered the Mediwitch in his softest tone. "Minerva told me what happened in her class, what she observed and we must know, from Jimmy, what occurred if we're to help him."

"Albus, it could have just been a warning sign of a possible craos, as Poppy suggested when I brought Ellison down here."

"Or it could be something far more complex."

Through a heavy fringe of lashes, Jim watched as Professor Dumbledore pulled a chair next to his bed and sat down. "Something tells me the incident in your classroom isn't the first one Ellison has suffered, Minerva." The Headmaster laid a hand on Jim's arm and patted it lightly. "Is it, Jimmy?"

Realizing Professor Dumbledore somehow knew he was awake, Jim opened his eyes - grateful Madam Pomfrey had lowered the light level to a dim glow - and nodded. "You're right, Headmaster. It's not the first time."

"Who knows of these ... states you enter into?"

"Just Harry, Ron and Hermione, sir."

"I should've known. Minerva, would you go gather those three and escort them to my office? I'll be there shortly to talk with them."

Professor McGonagall nodded, her lips tightening into a thin line before she disappeared from the infirmary.

Sitting up Jim looked back to Professor Dumbledore's face, noting the odd expression there. "Sir, uh, they aren't going to be in any trouble, are they? They only meant to help me."

Madam Pomfrey had been busy measuring out another potion nearby but returned in time to hear Jim's question. Handing him a small goblet, she said rather heatedly, "If they had really wanted to help you, they would've dragged you in to see me after the very first attack. Now, drink all of that - slowly - and..." she waved her wand and a hospital gown appeared on Jim's lap, "...change into this before you fall asleep. And you will fall asleep, trust me. You are also to stay here until I'm sure we cured whatever it is that is wrong with you. Be it a hex, curse or something more organic in nature." Turning, she headed to her office, the heels of her boots striking hard notes on the flagstone flooring as Jim tried his best to apologize to her back.

Professor Dumbledore clucked his tongue against his teeth as he shook his head. "Poppy has a point, Jimmy, but to answer your question, no. Harry and the others will not be in trouble for trying to help you. However, if you feel up to it, I'd like to try a simple test before you drink your sleeping draught."

"A test, sir?"

"Yes. It's an old one, but I recently read up on it and, if I'm correct about what is going on with you, you may not have to take those tasty potions of Poppy's again." The professor's blue eyes twinkled in mirth and Jim couldn't help but smile at the Headmaster and chuckle just a little.

"What do I have to do, Professor?"

"Just lie back and relax." Jim scooted back down into the bed and watched, curious, as the Headmaster took his wand out of a pocket, touched it gently to Jim's forehead and whispered words Jim couldn't understand. The infirmary was bathed in a dark blue light that became lighter and lighter before flaring to a brilliant azure then fading. "Just as I thought. I know now what's wrong with you but it's nothing Madam Pomfrey can cure with one of her potions or spells." Dumbledore stood up, pocketed his wand and pulled his gaily-colored robes close around his body.

Jim sat back up on the bed, startled by the Headmaster's words. "What is it, Professor? What's wrong with me?"

"Oh, nothing a little guidance won't help you with. The problem will be finding the right person to help you." The Headmaster touched his shoulder in a reassuring manner and Jim relaxed. "Now, you do as Madam Pomfrey has requested. Change into that lovely hospital gown, drink your sleeping draught, and I'll come by to see you in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Jim waited until Professor Dumbledore had left the infirmary before checking to see if Madam Pomfrey had come out of her office, then rapidly changed into the hospital gown and crawled under the covers of his bed. Picking up the goblet with the purple colored sleeping potion swirling inside it, he closed his eyes and sipped at the brew. Something the color of grape juice should taste better than this. Holding his breath, he downed the slightly-less-than-vile tasting potion in two gulps then settled further down into the bed and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

***

Their Transfiguration class cut short by Professor McGonagall suddenly dragging Jim from the room, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed out to the lawn in front of the school. The sun was warm on their faces as they sat down on the plush grass.

"Did either of you notice anything odd about Jim before McGonagall dragged him out of the class?" Harry asked as he pulled his assignment book out and started to look over his notes from Advanced Divination.

"I didn't, but then again I was trying to keep my croquet-ball-turned-rabbit from jumping off my desk," Ron answered as he reclined on his back, totally ignoring his books in lieu of soaking up sunlight.

Hermione, her nose already buried in one of the many books she'd pulled out of her satchel, looked up at Ron in disgust. "If you had paid attention to Professor McGonagall's lesson, you wouldn't have had any trouble controlling your rabbit." Her brown eyes then turned back to Harry. "I thought I saw Jim start into one of his fits, but it was just about then that the Professor moved in between the desks and I couldn't see him anymore."

Harry nodded. "That's what I thought I saw too, Hermione, but he seemed okay except for being a little pale when the Professor escorted him out of the class right afterwards."

"Maybe he missed with his spell?" Ron proposed. "You know, instead of hitting the croquet ball he hit a part of himself?"

Hermione snorted at that idea, and Harry couldn't blame her. For being a transfer student, Jim Ellison had proven himself quite adept at Transfiguration.

"I think it was something else." Harry made a correction on his star chart, moving Mars where it needed to be to transect the house of Capricorn, and then threw his quill down. "What if McGonagall noticed Jim slipping in to a fit and took him off to the infirmary?"

"Maybe, but if she did, she caught it earlier than we've been able to," Hermione said as she put the book she was looking through back into her bag and picked up another. "By the way, my research into what could cause such a state in Jim has turned up nothing so far."

"Nothing at all?" Harry got concerned. "Hermione, there's got to be something causing it, something we can counter-act, counter-hex or counter-spell. If Jim was to have a fit like what he had in practice during an actual Quidditch match..."

"I know! I know! But every book and tome Sandburg and I have looked through so far doesn't have anything that matches the symptoms Jim described."

Ron sat up when Hermione mentioned working with Sandburg. "You actually told a Ravenclaw what's happening to Jim? Are you nuts!?"

Hermione turned to look her accuser in the eye, anger flashing across her face. "I am not nuts! I needed help and Sandburg is very good at research."

"He's also the reserve Seeker for Ravenclaw! He's bound to tell his teammates we've a problem that could easily be exploited in a match! Honestly, Hermione, don't you ever think about security and team loyalty?"

Harry winced and waited for the explosion that was bound to happen between his friends. To Ron, Quidditch was the be-all and end-all of sports and nothing should even be contemplated that could compromise the chances of Gryffindor capturing the Quidditch Cup. To Hermione, though she liked watching the matches and was beginning to catch on to the more subtle aspects of certain strategies, it was just a game and nothing to fret over. Harry didn't exactly agree with her, but he wasn't nearly as fanatical about the sport as Ron was either.

"Yes, I did think about security and house loyalty, Weasley." Her tone was a warning to run before she exploded, but Harry knew he couldn't get on his feet fast enough and braced himself instead. "And for your information ... in case it's slipped your addled brain ... we don't face Ravenclaw again this year in Quidditch. For your further information, I asked Sandburg to keep our research secret and had him swear a loyalty oath to that effect." Before Ron could sputter a reply, she turned her attention to Harry, her intense gaze making him flinch. "Blair and I tracked down a possible book with the spells we need to look up, but it's in the Restricted Section. We need to borrow your cloak, Harry. Tonight."

"Um, all right. Uh, you didn't tell him the cloak was mine, did you?" Harry instantly regretted his question as she aimed her best 'Do-I-Look-Stupid' look his direction. "Right, sorry I asked." He rose to his feet, gathering his books and nodded toward his friends. "Let's go grab it now. You can keep it in your satchel and use it when you meet up with Sandburg later this evening."

He tried to ignore the not-so-quiet bickering passing back and forth between his best friends as they followed him into the Great Hall, up the stairs to their House, past the portrait of the Pink Lady and into the Gryffindor common room.

"Blair, is it? You getting chummy with a Ravenclaw?"

"You're just too house-blind to look beyond Gryffindor to other houses to make friends."

"At least it's a Ravenclaw ... I'd hurl if you were working with a Slytherin."

"Even if Blair was in Slytherin, which he's not, I'd work with him anyway - he's really good with research assignments."

"Urgh! That's just too disgusting to contemplate."

"Are you jealous or something?"

"As if!"

Harry had had enough; everyone in the Common Room was staring at them.

"Oh, bloody hell! Shut it you two!" He stalked off, leaving them gawping at his back as he walked up the stairs to his dormitory. He didn't expect them to follow him, until he stopped to open the door to his dorm room and found them right behind them. Both of his friends were looking rather contrite, with blushes slowly fading from their cheeks. Holding the door open to let them pass into the room in front of him, Harry followed them inside. Crossing over to his trunk and, after unlocking it with a well-aimed spell, opened it and pulled out the silvery cloak and handed it to Hermione. "Don't lose it, don't let anyone but Sandburg know it's mine, and whatever else happens tonight, do not get caught."

"I'll be careful, Harry. Thanks." She slipped the rare invisibility cloak into her satchel, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Sorry if Ron and I embarrassed you with our tiff."

"It's all right, Hermione. And you didn't. Embarrass me that is. But you were making a scene in the Great Hall, on the Grand Stairway, the hall..." He slowly ticked off each place on his fingers, hoping they'd get the point.

Ron started to blush again, the color clashing with his hair. "Oh great! Anyone who saw and heard us probably thinks we're dating, Hermione!"

"And that would a problem because?"

Harry decided right then would be a good time to escape the room, moving past his friends into the hall and down the stairs. Stepping down off the last step and entering the Gryffindor Common Room Harry came to a halt as he spotted Professor McGonagall entering through the hidden portrait portal.

"Ah, Potter, good." Her sharp gaze nailed him from across the room, before sliding past to look behind him. "Where are Miss Granger and Mister Weasley?"

"They should be down momentarily, Professor."

"Not good enough." She crossed the room and yelled up the stairs. "Granger! Ronald Weasley! Come down here immediately!" McGonagall turned to look at Harry, her hands clasped in front of her hips, an expression of disapproval on her face. "Before you ask, Potter, I don't know if you three are in trouble. Not yet. But I wouldn't bank against it."

Hermione and Ron came clambering down the steps behind the Professor, wild and confused looks on their faces as they met Harry's gaze and tried to find out why they'd been singled out. All Harry could do in response to their silent questions was to shrug and shake his head.

"Very good, now that you're all here, come with me please. Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with all three of you." The stone of dread which had been forming in Harry's chest, dropped to his stomach as he followed McGonagall out of the Common Room.

***

Hermione sat in one of the three chairs that had been evenly placed in a semi-circle in front of the rather large and cluttered desk, as she, Ron and Harry awaited the Headmaster's arrival in his office. Hermione knew Harry and Ron had been in the office before, but this was her first trip, and she couldn't restrain herself from looking around at all the fascinating items littering the large, two-story room. Shelf upon shelf of books, some looking far older than any she'd seen in the Library, lined two walls while another bore typical portraits of wizards and witches in grand robes. She guessed they were past Headmasters and Mistresses of Hogwarts, and while some of them were wide-awake and active, others were snoring quietly as they slept in their painted homes.

Letting her gaze travel as far around the room as she could without moving her head -- she didn't want it to look like she was snooping -- as Professor McGonagall was standing behind her and her friends. Hermione noticed a brightly colored bird resting on a railing that guarded the second level of the Headmaster's office. Having heard of the bird from Harry and Ron during their second year, she couldn't help but stare at the beautiful phoenix. Fawkes seemed to realize he was being watched and started to preen, causing his lovely scarlet feathers to gleam in the evening light streaming in through the large window behind Professor Dumbledore's desk. She was still watching the bird groom when the door at the rear of the office opened, then closed, and Professor Dumbledore came around from behind her to lean on his desk.

"I see you're all here. Good." He reached over and picked up a crystal bowl from his desk, "Would any of you like a sweet?" Hermione shook her head, heard Ron and Harry decline the offer, then waited as Dumbledore removed the wrapper from one of the pieces of candy and popped it in his mouth. "Right then. One of you, please tell me why you thought it was not necessary to inform Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey or myself of the troubles Mister Ellison's been experiencing."

Hermione felt like her world was crumbling around her. Professor Dumbledore hadn't raised his voice, hadn't even changed his expression, but with only a few words he managed to convey his disappointment in them. As a Prefect she should have taken the problem facing Ellison to her Head of House, but she hadn't. She had ignored all common sense, not to mention the house rules, and had worked in secret with Harry, Ron and even Jim in hopes of finding a cure for their housemate. She risked a glance toward her fellow Gryffindors, who were looking rather contrite but avoiding her eyes, and her hopes of maybe becoming Head Girl in her seventh year crumbled into ashes.

"You heard the Headmaster. One of you speak up or I'll call on you." Professor McGonagall's voice drifted over her shoulder, making Hermione wince and close her eyes anxiously. She wasn't sure how long the silence dragged on but the Head of Gryffindor must have decided it had dragged on far too long. "Granger, you're a Prefect, speak up."

Hermione opened her eyes, looked directly into the Headmaster's kind blue gaze, and lost her composure while answering her head of House. "Please, Professor, we thought we were helping Jim, that we could handle his ... fits ... without bothering you, Professor Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey."

"And just when did one, or all three, of you pass the Magical Medical Boards?" Professor McGonagall's voice was like ice water down Hermione's back.

"Jim didn't want to bother anyone, Professor," Harry spoke up.

"Minerva, I already knew this after talking with young Ellison, so we need not go over it again with his friends." Professor Dumbledore stood up, walked around his desk and sat down facing them while Fawkes floated down from his perch to alight on the Headmaster's shoulder. "What I wish to know is why you three didn't feel you could come to me with this issue, especially you Miss Granger. As a Prefect you know you have the ear of any instructor here at the school, myself included, when it's needed -- yet you saw fit not to try to gain access to those you should have."

"It wasn't right of me, I know that, Professor. But there was a trust issue and a right of privacy as well. Jim asked us for help, asked us not to bother anyone with it and he trusted us. We should have come to either Professor McGonagall or yourself when we couldn't find an answer or help Jim prevent the attacks, but we didn't."

"At least you realize, in hindsight, that you should have and that's a point in your favor. Now, tell me - what are you doing in your attempts to help Jimmy? Tell me everything." Hermione heard the door behind her open and close again while Dumbledore was talking, but didn't want to risk looking to see who had entered the room. Soon, between herself, Ron and Harry, the story of their search for a spell, potion, hex or curse that could've been used against their housemate came out. They detailed, as best they could, the symptoms Jim had reported experiencing and even included the fact that she had recruited a Ravenclaw, Sandburg, to help her in her research.

***

After the last bit of the tale had spilled from Hermione's lips, how she had asked Sandburg to help her and how she had sworn him to secrecy, Harry took a moment to look over his shoulder to see who had entered Dumbledore's office. He nearly groaned in dismay when he saw the Potions Master standing next to Professor McGonagall. He could think of nothing they'd done that would warrant the attention of Professor Snape, so what was he doing there?

"Severus, you've heard their story. Is there any potion, hex or dark spell they may have overlooked in their search which could have caused the fugue state they've described?" Dumbledore addressed the Potions Master, causing Ron and Hermione to turn in their seats to gawp at the Head of Slytherin House.

Professor Snape ignored Harry's and his friends' reactions as he answered, "There are one or two very complex potions which could cause a few of the symptoms, but none that would cause all of them and none which could be administered together without deadly results."

"Which is what I thought as well. Thank you for confirming that, Severus." Dumbledore rose from behind his desk, helping Fawkes to transfer from his shoulder to a perch on a brass stand, then came around to stand in front of Harry and his housemates. "From this moment on you three are put on notice ... You're to continue your research into what is ailing your housemate. I'll give you a pass to the Restricted Section for tonight, Miss Granger, but you are also not to speak of this to anyone, other than to Mister Sandburg who has already been brought into your confidence. In the meantime, Mister Ellison is spending the night in the Infirmary and while I'm pretty sure he's all ready asleep -- you recall how Madam Pomfrey is with Sleeping Draughts, Harry - I'm sure he would appreciate visitors in the morning before classes begin." Dumbledore smiled, causing Harry to relax and from the corner of his eye he could tell that Ron and Hermione relaxed as well.

"We'll stop by before breakfast, Professor," Harry said. Then a thought occurred to him and he had to ask, "Do you have any idea how long Jim will be in the Infirmary, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled and Harry heard Professor McGonagall titter and thought he heard Professor Snape choke back a laugh. But it really sounded more like the Potions Master was clearing his throat. "Ah, Harry. That is the one place in this great school that I have no control over. Madam Pomfrey runs her Infirmary as she sees fit and I do not dare interfere. If you wish to know how long your friend is going to be under her care, I suggest you ask her." The Headmaster motioned for them to stand up and then ushered them past the two House Heads to the door. "Now, I suggest you three return to your Common room, or find somewhere to talk amongst yourselves and be on time for dinner. I understand the house elves have been working on a new custard and I'm sure you do not want to miss that."

Harry stepped out of the office, waiting for Ron and Hermione to join him at the top of the moving spiral staircase before stepping onto the conveyance and riding it down with them. Out in the hallway, past the gargoyle that guarded the hidden entrance to the Headmaster's private domain, he turned to face his friends. "Professor McGonagall didn't say anything, but I wonder how many house points we just managed to lose?"

Hermione moaned and buried her face in her hands. "I don't even want to think about that, Harry! I'm worried I managed to lose my position as Prefect!"

"Bugger that!" Ron burst out. "Think of how Jimmy's going to feel once he knows we spilled the beans!"

Harry couldn't disagree with either of his friends, as both had valid arguments. What worried him was the possibility that they'd managed to lose house points because they had been too stubborn to seek assistance from their Professors. And now, thanks to their blabbing, there was a chance even Ravenclaw would lose house points because one of their own had conspired with the Gryffindor Trio.

"How did we manage to mess up so badly?" Harry wondered aloud as he trudged up the staircase to the Gryffindor House, not sure he wanted to go to the Dining Hall in an hour. His stomach was in knots and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep anything down, even if he managed to eat.

***

Rushing through the halls between his House tower and the Library, Blair fretted over the idea he'd spent way too much time putting a final, polishing touch to his Ancient Runes report. He managed to avoid fellow 'Claws returning to their Common Room from various locales but couldn't avoid a collision with a student coming out of the Library just as he pulled open the door. They fell to the floor in a tangled mass of limbs and robes, just as two other, larger, students piled through the door to land on top of Blair and whomever he'd crashed into.

"Get. Off. Me. NOW." The words weren't shouted, just heavily emphasized. Weight lifted off his legs and chest, leaving Blair free to start pushing the remaining weight off his body. He wriggled and shifted, until he could see whom it was he'd crashed into. Pale gray eyes under pale blond, slicked back hair met his searching gaze - Draco Malfoy. "Sandburg, keep moving like that and I'll start to the get the idea you like being pinned to the floor."

Blair ceased his movements and glared back at the Slytherin. "Do that and I'll make sure everyone knows you seemed to like the idea as well, Malfoy." He nearly laughed at the look of sheer disgust that flashed across the other boy's face. "After all, until now, I thought you made it a point to avoid physical contact with half 'n halfs like me." His words had the effect he'd hoped for, and he forced himself not to laugh as Malfoy scurried to his feet and made swiping motions with his hands as if to straighten his robes and to brush off any contaminates he might have picked up from Blair.

"You wouldn't dare, Sandburg," Malfoy sneered as Blair got to his feet and started to pick up the books he'd scattered when he had collided with the Slytherin.

"Try me." He watched as Malfoy's two tag-a-longs, Goyle and Crabbe, started to pull at Malfoy's robes in an obvious effort to keep him from taking Blair up on his challenge.

In a clear effort to save face, as they had attracted a crowd, Malfoy merely shook off Goyle and Crabbe then sent one more barb toward Blair, "Maybe another time, Sandburg. Of course, our teams have yet to face each other on the Quidditch pitch, and while I'm not saying anything will happen to your team's Seeker, you'd be smart to get in as much practice avoiding Bludgers as possible." With that the Slytherins turned away from him and walked like a trio of sea-drunk sailors down the hall away from the Library.

Blair let out a snort of derision, "Like I'm worried." Rotating on his heels to enter the Library, he noticed the crowd blocking the doorway. "Show's over, folks. And I really do need to return my books to Madam Pince before she counts them overdue." His light-hearted words did the trick and the students let out a collective giggle before clearing the portal and going on about their business.

Entering the Library, he crossed over to the desk to return his books and didn't even bother to turn around when he felt a presence at his elbow. "Granger, do you mind? I don't like it when people breathe down my neck."

"Sorry." However, Hermione didn't back off. In fact, she leaned in closer and whispered so Madam Pince couldn't hear her. "We need to talk. Now."

Madam Pince took his books from him and Blair joined Hermione at a table.

"What's up?" He sat down close to her, but not too close, not with her acting all wiggy. He even managed not to flinch as the witch set a privacy spell around the table before answering his question.

"Ellison's in the Infirmary."

"What? What the heck happened, Hermione?" Her answer stunned him into silence and left him there as the whole tale spilled forth from her lips. He'd heard, of course, that Hermione and her best buds, Weasley and Potter, had a habit of breaking or bending rules and regulations right and left. That 'The Gryffindor Trio' often got away with antics very few students would have ever dreamed of doing. And now he'd been sucked into aiding them in their activities and subsequently fingered as an accomplice. "Oh, that's just great, Granger! You're telling me the Headmaster knows, as well as the head of your House and the Potions Master, and because of that I've probably managed to help Ravenclaw lose House Points?"

"I'm not sure you'll lose any points, Sandburg, only that it's a possibility and I thought you should know and prepare yourself."

"Well, thanks." He looked up from where he'd clenched his hands on the tabletop to see her face crumple in concern. "Look, I meant that seriously, Hermione. I suppose, now that we've been found out and Ellison's being treated by Madam Pomfrey, that our research has been canceled?"

"Just the opposite." Hermione reached into her robe and pulled out a slip of brilliant purple paper. "Professor Dumbledore gave us permission to search through the Restricted Section in our research efforts on one condition."

Blair tried to sound unconcerned through his shock and hoped she didn't notice. "Really? And what might that be?"

"We're to compile a complete list of possible spells, hexes, potions and jinxes that might be the root of Jim's affliction." It wasn't as bad as it could have been, Blair realized, until Hermione spoke up again. "And he asks we look into possible muggle medical reasons and report on those as well."

"Great, just great. We got O.W.L.s coming up, the Professors are laying more and more out-of-class studies on us and the Headmaster wants us to look up more stuff? And not just magical but muggle related too?" He looked up and grinned at the Gryffindor. "Well, what are you waiting for, Granger? Let's get to it."

Hermione let out a quiet peel of laughter as she lifted the privacy spell and rose from the table. "Sandburg, you really are too much like me. You're actually looking forward to all the work we're going to have to put in on this project, aren't you?"

Blair felt his face break into a wide smile as he followed her over to where Madam Pince was observing the few students left in the Library at eight in the evening. "Hey, knowledge is good for you and I never have been able to resist the lure of books."

"Me either." Hermione handed over the permission slip from the Headmaster to the librarian, who looked at it and frowned before leading them over to the gated section. From the way Hermione moved directly to the section dealing with the darker spells and potions, Blair got the impression it wasn't the first time the Gryffindor had been in the Restricted Section and quickly decided he didn't want to know the particulars. Moving a little ways beyond her, he found the section of tomes dealing with powerful curses and hexes and started to hunt through them for possible matches for the symptoms described by Ellison.

There's something we're overlooking, something that's nagging at the back of my brain, something I read ... but where? Blair shrugged off his thoughts as he found a near match and called Hermione's attention to it.

***

When Jim finally opened his eyes, he slammed them shut again to avoid the glare of the sunlight pouring in from the windows high above the beds in the infirmary. The pain in his head was gone and, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, he'd gotten a full night's sleep but something was still a bit ... off. Opening his eyes once more, Ellison looked around, trying to get an idea of what was bothering him, and then realizing what it was and jumped out of the rack in an effort to escape the bed clothing, which seemed to be woven with iron filings. He was scrubbing at his exposed arms, which were turning an alarming shade of red, when Madam Pomfrey entered the ward and came hurrying toward him.

"Ellison, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Skin, itching ... burning." He knew he wasn't being very clear in his explanation, but the itching had progressed to severe fever-like scorching, and he was too busying trying to combat the fire by rubbing his hands over his arms, legs and anywhere else he could reach.

"Oh dear ... come with me, child." The Mediwitch didn't touch him but still managed to guide him over to an area of the infirmary he'd never noticed before. When she opened the concealed door and revealed a huge bathing room, he didn't waste any time or display any false modesty.

Striping out of his hospital gown, he dove into the large sunken bath. When he emerged from his desperate dunking, Ellison let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry about the display, Madam Pomfrey." He looked up at the kindly witch as he soaked in the water while trying to keep his body submerged.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, Ellison." She walked over to a cupboard and pulled out several towels and a spare robe. "I've seen some strange reactions to potions, herbs and various cleaning supplies in my time but yours is the worse I've ever seen." She placed the items from the cupboard on a hastily summoned table. "Now, you stay in that water, it's a special blend of demineralized waters and certain soothing herbs, until you start feeling less ... itchy while I go call the Headmaster to let him know of this latest development." Madam Pomfrey left the bathing room, closing the door firmly behind her. Jim let himself float in the soothing water, grateful that his skin had stopped irritating him.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed in the bath, but it must have been a while, if his shriveled fingers were any indication. But finally he emerged from the still steaming waters and dried himself off with the towels. He then pulled on a fluffy, soft robe Madam Pomfrey had left out for him. Stepping out of the room, he found three of his classmates waiting for him by the bed he'd been sleeping in until the sheets had started to torture him. "Harry, Ron, Hermione ... what are you doing here?"

"We came by to see how you were doing," Ron answered as Jim walked past him to sit on the bed. "We stopped by earlier but you were sound asleep and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us stay."

"Earlier? What time is it?" After the nightmare of his allergic reaction and the bliss that had followed in the bath, Jim realized he had no clue what time it was.

"It's just before lunch," Hermione replied. "We ... all right, I decided that we should bring your assignments to you, so you can keep up with our classes. After all, I know what it's like to miss class and have to struggle to catch up." She blushed as she said this, and Jim had no idea why as he could never remember Hermione even having a simple cold in the months he'd been in Gryffindor House with her.

Harry finished stacking some books on a nearby table before he turned around to face Jim. "So, how're you feeling today, Jimmy? Think you'll be able to leave the infirmary any time soon?"

"I don't know. After what happened when I woke up, Madam Pomfrey might decide to keep me here a while longer." Of course, that got Hermione asking exactly what happened and, after a few minutes of trying to explain, Jim nearly lost his temper with her. "Hermione, I don't KNOW what caused it. All I know is that when I woke up, it felt like I'd fallen asleep on some kind of bed of needles. Madam Pomfrey guided me to the bathing room where I soaked until I felt normal again. Okay?"

"I'm just trying to help ..." Hermione left the room without a backward glance.

"Damn. I didn't mean to tork her off ... she just kept asking the same questions over and over and over." Jim stared at the door the Prefect had vanished through, feeling miserable at the way he'd been short with her.

Harry shrugged. "She'll get over it, Jimmy. Eventually. I'm sure she's just a little tired from all the research she did last night."

"Yeah, according to the Fat Lady, Hermione didn't come back into the common room until well after midnight. Spent most of the night in the library with that fifth year Ravenclaw, Sandburg. I found her asleep at our study table in the common room when I woke up." Ron scowled when Sandburg's name crossed his lips, but otherwise he seemed genuinely worried about Hermione.

"What was she looking up?" Jim thought he might know but Hermione had promised that she wouldn't ask for 'outside' help unless she really, really needed it, and he hoped she hadn't ...

"She's still trying to find out what might be causing your fugue states," Harry interrupted. "Don't worry, Jimmy, she managed to convince Sandburg not to betray your secret to the rest of his House, even made him swear an oath of secrecy."

Jim shook his head. "I'm not worried about that, Harry. I just don't understand why she's still bothering with research when Professor Dumbledore already said he knows what's wrong with me."

"What? Why didn't he say anything to us when he called us into his office last night?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"The Headmaster called you into his office?" Jim was a bit shocked. The Headmaster had assured him last night that his friends weren't in trouble.

"He was right to call us on the carpet, Jimmy." Ron placed a reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder, drawing his attention from Harry. "We should have gone to him, Professor McGonagall or even brought you to Madam Pomfrey when you had your first fit. As it is, he's all but ordered us to keep up our research into what's happening to you, even though Professor Snape pretty much ruled out any potions, hexes or curses."

"Snape?" Jim choked out. Just how many people knew he was turning into some sort of freak?

"Yeah, Snape." Harry nodded. "He came into Dumbledore's office while Hermione was explaining what we'd seen happen to you and what we'd found out so far. I didn't understand why he needed to be there, but he did back up our conclusions."

"But ... Snape? I mean ... you saw him, Harry! You told me he was on the Quidditch pitch when I had that fit during practice. For all any of us know, the way he's been ... picking on me in his classes, he could be the one causing my problems!"

"I don't think so, Jimmy." Harry shook his head. "I don't think even Snape would be that cruel, and he's not as bad as he acts sometimes. He's saved my life in the past, even though he clearly doesn't like me."

Jim wasn't sure how to reply to that, and before he could, Madam Pomfrey returned with a tray of food and a mug of pumpkin juice. "All right, boys. You've been here long enough. At least Miss Granger was smart enough to get to the great hall in time for lunch. Now you two get down there before all you get are scraps. Go on, shoo!" She placed the tray on another table and rolled it into position near Jim's side as Harry and Ron departed from the infirmary. "Now, you eat all of that. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape will be by after lunch to talk with you, and you don't want your stomach to rumble while talking to the Headmaster, do you?"

Jim shook his head, but after she left, he struggled to eat even a few bites, his stomach in knots. Why would Professor Snape want to talk to him?

***

Hermione was absent during lunch, which wasn't too surprising when he stopped to think about it. Hurriedly shoveling food into his mouth to the disgust of his tablemates, he ran to the Library as soon as he was finished. He'd had a brainstorm during his History of Magic class and was dying to see if his idea was right.

Blair made his way through the nearly empty library straight to the book he needed. Grabbing it off the shelf, he sat down at an out-of-the-way table to read. After skimming through the first few chapters, he found what he was looking for.

...Oft times, when a Hunter focused too much on one of their hunting skills, they'd become lost in the sensations. Only the Attendant could approach a Hunter in this state an, with physical contact and softly spoken words, the Attendant could bring the Hunter back to the world and the team could continue their task. As valuable as the Hunters were in the first centuries of Magic, the inherent dangers of seeking out those witches and wizards who had turned from the Light to embrace the Darkness quickly devastated the ranks of Hunters and Attendants. By the year 1683, there was only one pair left on the continent, and it was at their urging the newly reformed Council of Magic (now known as the Ministry of Magic) started training wizards and a few witches to combat the rising darkness. In 1698, when the last of the Hunters passed away, the final Attendant gathered the newly trained Warriors of the Light to a secret location. When the Warriors returned, without the Attendant, they had chosen a new name for themselves. Since then, all wizards and witches who followed in their wake have been known as Aurors...

Blair sat back in his chair, wondering if it was possible that the fugue states Ellison was going through could be because he was a Hunter. But why would a Hunter suddenly reappear in the world ... unless it was because the Darkness gathering after the reported rise of He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named had called forth the skills? If that was the case, then the best thing that could happen for Ellison was for someone to figure out what made an Attendant and then match them up.

"Find what you were looking for, young Sandburg?"

He jumped at the words, turning to find the Headmaster standing behind him. "Professor Dumbledore!"

The professor smiled as he moved around to sit at the table. "Relax, Blair. I didn't mean to startle you, but I couldn't help but notice the book you were reading. Fascinating subject, those first Aurors." He reached out and tapped the tome in front of Blair. "Did you find anything to assist you in your research into young Ellison's states?"

Blair shook his head. "I'm not sure, Professor. There is a passage in here that seems to allude to the Hunters as having fits which are similar to Ellison's but the information isn't detailed enough, and I haven't seen these fugue states of his myself to know if I'm on the right track." Out of breath, Blair shut up, feeling his face burning. "Sorry, Professor, I tend to talk a mile a minute when I'm explaining things."

"No need to apologize, young Sandburg. I often did the same thing myself ... back when I taught Transfiguration many, many years ago." Dumbledore leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, putting his face close to Blair's as he lowered his voice to a whisper, "You are on the right track. Now you need to concentrate on what made the Attendants special to the Hunters. Think you could do that for me?"

He sat back, staring at the Headmaster in silence for a few minutes before he shook his head. "I'm not sure I'll be able to find that out, Professor. There doesn't seem to be much written on the Hunters themselves and what little I've read on the Attendants ... is sketchy at best."

Dumbledore let out a sigh as he sat back in his own chair. "I was hoping for more but maybe it's best if we just muddle through and see what works."

Blair nodded, then felt his brain kick into gear. "Professor ... Hermione told me that she and a few others had been able to bring Ellison out of these states of his. Maybe they have what it takes to be Attendants?"

"Maybe." Dumbledore brought his hand up to stroke his long beard. "When they told me how they managed to bring Ellison out of his fits they admitted to having to use physical force to jostle him. Not very efficient and potentially dangerous, but we'll see." He stood up and straightened out his robes. "Now, I have a meeting to get to. Good luck on your research, Mr. Sandburg."

Blair watched the Headmaster leave the library, then returned his attention to the book in front of him. Maybe there was something more written in there that would give him further insight into the role the Attendants played with the Hunters.

***

Having finished the lunch Madam Pomfrey had brought to him, Jim screwed up his courage and asked if he could change out of the drafty and muggle-like hospital gown, halfway expecting her to refuse his request. She hadn't though, and he'd just finished changing into a lightweight cotton pajama set when Professors Dumbledore and Snape entered the ward. Still unsure as to why the Headmaster would want the Potions Master present during this talk, Jim walked back over to his assigned bed as they approached.

"Feeling better, Jimmy?" Dumbledore asked as he took a seat next to the bed as Jim sat down gingerly, his whole body somewhat tense in the presence of the perpetually sneering Snape.

"Yes, sir. Much better."

"Especially now that you managed to convince Madam Pomfrey to let you wear something other than a drafty gown?"

Jim couldn't help it, and he smiled as he answered, "Yes, sir."

The Headmaster nodded, then turned his attention away from Jim to look back over his shoulder at Professor Snape. "Do sit down, Severus. I don't like it when you hover behind me like a giant bat, and your doing so will not help us in our efforts to assist young Ellison."

Jim watched as the Potions Master's lip curled up into a snarl before the man sat down on a stool on the opposite side of the bed.

"Thank you, Severus. Now, Jimmy, I know you've told others and myself what you've been going through, but I want you to tell Professor Snape here as well. Don't leave out a single detail and be as descriptive as you can about your actual symptoms."

Jim hesitated, still unsure as to why the Headmaster needed him to speak of his ... freakishness ... to Professor Snape. Before he could open his mouth, the Potions Master leaned in close and quietly spoke to him. "There is a reason for this interrogation, Ellison, one that may not occur to you because you are dreadfully behind in a number of classes, including mine. Delaying will only bore me, and you do not want that, trust me."

Glaring at the Professor as he sat back, Jim started to tell his side of the situation. Silence reigned in the nearly empty hospital after Jim had stopped talking, and both Snape and Dumbledore wore identical expressions of thoughtfulness.

"Now do you see why I needed you to hear Ellison's story for yourself, Severus?" Dumbledore's soft voice broke the stillness.

"Yes..." Snape shook his head slowly. "But the talent he's talking about hasn't been seen in the wizarding world since ... I'm sure you recall when, Headmaster." A mournful expression flickered across Snape's face, then vanished.

"I know, Severus, I know. But I'm quickly running out of options, and Ellison's running out of time. Can you possibly help?"

Now Jim was more confused than ever. Snape? Help him? Why would the head of Slytherin House want to help a Gryffindor? And what did the Headmaster mean that he was running out of time? His thoughts were interrupted by the Potions Master's answer.

"I'll not be able to fill the role, Dumbledore, you know that." There it was again, that look of sadness on Snape's face. Jim hadn't imagined it. "But ... should we be able to find the one who can assist Ellison here at Hogwarts, I'm willing to help them learn what they need to know."

"Thank you, Severus." Dumbledore nodded nobly, as if to confer his thanks beyond mere words to the Slytherin Head of House. Snape returned the nod. "See what you can do to devise the tests we'll need to find the help, will you? The sooner the better I think." The Potions Master nodded again, acknowledging the Headmaster's request, before standing up, pushing the stool aside and leaving the room. Dumbledore returned his attention back to Jim. "I know you're confused by what just took place, Jimmy, but you have to trust me when I say Professor Snape is the best person to have on your side in the matter of your out-of-control senses."

"I trust you, Professor Dumbledore, I'm just not sure..."

The old wizard raised a hand to stop him from completing his sentence. "I depend on Severus Snape, not only with the students under his care but with certain other things as well, Jimmy. All I ask is that you have faith in my judgment in this matter and try to trust him yourself."

Jim nodded in agreement. "I'll ... I'll try, Professor."

"That's all I ask, Jimmy. Now, how would you like to hear my theory about what is happening to you?" This time Jim nodded his head most eagerly and settled back, his back braced against the headboard and cushioned by his pillow, as Professor Dumbledore started to relate to him a story about a group of people known as Hunters.

***

With Jimmy, Fred and George now on the 'disabled' list, the Gryffindor Quidditch reserves were getting a real workout in their positions, and they were switched around, apparently at whim, on Alicia's orders. With both of the primary and one of the reserve Beaters out of action, Harry found himself moved into the Beater spot for the practice session while Ginny Weasley covered his slot as Seeker. Much as Harry hated to admit it, even to himself, playing Beater was enjoyable and only proved Oliver Wood's words in his first year to be prophetic.

What wracked his nerves was finding himself hitting one of the two Bludgers at Ginny when she had clearly spotted the Snitch. But if he hesitated, Seamus didn't. And if Ginny found out Harry wasn't putting her through her paces...

The Weasley temper wasn't something a wise person trifled with without expecting severe consequences. So Harry played his position to the best of his ability and worked hard to make it seem like he was hitting the Bludgers toward Ginny at full strength.

Back-handing a Bludger toward Ron, who had the Quaffle and was speeding to the goals, Harry heard the all too familiar, high-pitched whirring of the Snitch's wings near his position and automatically started to look for the tiny golden ball. He was forced to dive to the pitch to avoid a collision as Ginny came blazing in to grab the ball and end the practice session. Her peal of joyous laughter filled the field as she held the Snitch and slowly floated her broom down toward where Harry was hovering above the field.

"Great catch, Ginny!" Harry called out to her before she reached him.

She barely managed to stop laughing before she answered him. "Thanks, Harry. You should have seen your face though! You looked like Malfoy did that one time you caught the Snitch right from behind his ear."

"That shocked, huh?" He jerked his head to indicate they should land and flew down to the pitch beside her.

"Yeah, that shocked." They landed in unison and started to walk slowly to where the rest of the team was gathering on the sideline near the Gryffindor locker room. "You know ... if my brothers or Jim aren't cleared to play the game against Hufflepuff next week, maybe we should talk to Alicia about letting you play Beater and letting me sub for you."

Harry stopped suddenly, his hand reaching out to tug on Ginny's practice robes and bringing her to a halt as well. "Ginny, are you sure? I mean, the 'Puffs aren't the bruisers that Slytherin is, but you could still get seriously hurt."

The emotions that crossed her face passed too quickly for Harry to identify them, but he couldn't miss the way her hand clenched the Snitch, her knuckles turning white. "Were you holding back just now, Harry?"

"What? No! Uh, not really, it's just that..." He felt the flush of heat rising in his face as she stared at him, her brown eyes flashing. "All right, maybe a little, but not so much that you wouldn't have felt it if I'd managed to hit you with a Bludger."

"Good. 'Cause if I ever hear of you holding back, even in practice, I'd be forced to beat you into jelly." Ginny smiled, then after glancing over her shoulder quickly, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips. Before Harry could think twice about what had happened, the youngest of the Weasley siblings broke off the contact between them and started to jog across the lawn up to the school.

"Whoa." He slowly started to walk, then change into a trot so he could catch up with Ginny before she joined the rest of the team. Coming up beside her, Harry reached out and took a hold of her hand and was rewarded with a bright, if somewhat shy smile. He was lost in a fog of thoughts when a familiar Scottish accented voice called out to him.

"Always knew you'd make a good Beater, Potter."

Tightening his grip on Ginny's hand, Harry turned to see Oliver Wood approaching from the Hogsmeade gate, carrying a fast looking broom over his shoulder and wearing his Puddlemere United Quidditch robes. "Wood! What're you doing here?"

"Come as a bit of a favor for Angelina and Professor McGonagall. Understand the old team needs help training up a couple of new Keepers." One of Wood's eyebrows made a slow climb up his forehead as he took a good long look at Ginny, then down to where Harry's hand joined hers, then back up at Harry. "Another Weasley joined the team, eh? Good show, Ginny. Harry, I hope Fred and George didn't see what happened between the two of you back there on the pitch or you may end up finding out why they're still two of the best Beaters I've ever seen."

"They're still back in the school. Madam Pomfrey hasn't released them from restrictive activities yet," Ginny answered defiantly.

"Oh? Then why do I see no less than three red-headed Gryffindors heading this way?"

Harry and Ginny followed Wood's pointing finger. Fred, George and Ron were walking rather quickly toward them. Harry let out a small groan, and Oliver laughed, but Ginny just let out a snort and clutched Harry's hand tighter.

***

Harry sat in his Advanced Divination class, trying not to fall asleep and attempting to actually listen to Professor Trelawney explain a new form of divination.

"Automatic writing is a way to open your mind to the psychic vibrations of the world around us. Placing a blank scroll in front of you and gently holding a quill in your dominate hand, empty your mind of any conscious thought and just let your hand write what the spirits tell it to." She paced around the small tower room, passing out special Ever-Inked-And-Ready Quills even as she checked to make sure they had cleared their desks of all but a single, small scroll of parchment. The classroom was so warm it was stifling and the sickeningly sweet odor of incense wafted on what little breeze could get past the heavily curtained windows. Trelawney returned to her chair, seating herself amid the jingling of her jewelry and a nauseating swirl of overly bright colored robes. "Now ... empty your minds, think of nothing, relax and see what the spirits and psychic vibes in the area lead you to write. Begin."

Not sure what to do with himself, Harry doodled on his parchment, drawing small sketches of snitches and what looked somewhat like a menacing black and scruffy-looking dog. He wasn't even fully aware of what he was doing until Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly whispered in his ear.

"Another Grim, Potter? And a Snitch and ..." she snatched up his parchment, "What's this? Oh dear!" She smiled in a way that made Harry's flesh crawl as she handed the paper back to him. "One must be careful when listening to the spirits, Potter. Not everything is as it appears." Confused, Harry looked down at his scribbles only to feel slightly embarrassed by what he'd written.

Under the sketch of the dog, several snitches, one of a white owl and a snake were the words: Ginny. Mom & Dad. Snuffles. Moony. Me. Approve or not? The word 'approve' was underlined heavily. Realizing Ron had been too quiet during this latest session under Professor Trelawney's tutelage, Harry looked over to see what his friend was up to.

Ron didn't look ... right. His mouth hung open slightly, his eyes gazing at something beyond the walls of the room. In fact, the only part of Ron that seemed to be moving at all was his hand, holding the quill, as it moved over the paper in front of him scratching out actual words. Not wanting to interfere with whatever scheme Ron was hatching for the class, Harry leaned toward his friend and watched as the quill scrawled across the page. Ron had already written three lines of words, and was finishing up on a fourth when he shuddered violently and the quill dropped from his hand just as Trelawney loudly called out to end the class.

"Ron, you okay?"

Ron looked at him, blinking quite a few times before he answered, "Yeah. Where did the time go, Harry?"

"You seemed to be doing exactly what the professor wanted ... did you see what you wrote?" Harry picked up the parchment and looked over the words, still confused, before he handed it to Ron to see. "Doesn't make sense to me, but maybe you'll understand it since you wrote it."

Judging by the expression on Ron's face, his friend was as baffled by the words as Harry was. "This is rubbish, it doesn't even rhyme."

"May I see that, Mister Weasley?" Professor Trelawney had somehow managed to sneak up on them and was holding her hand out for the scroll. Ron gave it to her with a shrug and Harry watched as her eyes scanned over the page before she pronounced judgment. "Well, you're right, it doesn't rhyme nor does it make any sense. Any witch or wizard worth their wand knows there is always danger lurking about, all part of having to live with the possibility that the Dark Lord has risen again." The distasteful look she aimed at Harry made him want to smack her, even as she flipped the scroll back to Ron. "You clearly have some small talent in the fine art of Divination, Mister Weasley, but you really must learn to convey your messages in a more precise manner."

Harry and Ron grabbed up their book bags, Ron hastily shoving his day's work into his robe pocket, and clambered down the ladder out of the oppressive atmosphere of Trelawney's warren. As they slowly made their way back down the stairs to the Great Hall, where they were to meet up with Hermione before their Transfiguration class, Harry asked Ron a question. "Ron, do you recall what you were thinking about before? When you were scribbling in class back there?"

"No. Not really," Ron pulled the paper out of his pocket and looked it over again. "Doesn't make a bit of sense, does it?" He handed the scroll to Harry.

Studying the words, which were surrounded by dozens of sketches that looked like Quidditch strategies rather than pictures, Harry wondered if it was possible that Ron had actually been able to do a real divination:

Hunter and Prey

Danger lurking

Hide away. Far away

Time will come later

No, the words made no sense what so ever, and Harry handed the scroll back to his friend. "Maybe you should hang on to it anyway, Ron. Just because we usually blow off Trelawney with a bunch of bunk predictions doesn't mean you didn't experience a real one."

"Maybe," Ron came to a standstill outside of Professor McGonagall's classroom and seemed to study the words he'd written. "You know, this could almost apply to you, Harry."

"What?" Harry shook his head. "No way! I mean, sure, if you look at it a certain way I'm sure it could apply to me and Volde..." Remembering his friend's usual reaction to the Dark Lord's name, he quickly amended his words, "You-Know-Who, but there is no way I'd ever hide and certainly not 'far away'!"

"I said, almost, Harry - not that it does." Ron shoved the scroll into his book bag. "Knowing me, I probably made it up in a fit of boredom. Come on, we need to get into class before McGonagall sends Hermione looking for us."

The mere mention of their friend sent Harry's brain spinning ... he and Ron might not be able to figure out what Ron's scribbling meant, and Hermione didn't really trust Divination, but if there was anyone in Gryffindor who could discern if Ron had experienced an actual prediction it would be her. As he sat down at his desk in McGonagall's class, Harry made a mental note to talk to Hermione and Ron about Ron's prediction after dinner.

***

Jim was sick and tired of being confined to the medical ward under the watchful gaze of Madam Pomfrey. The Mediwitch had finally diagnosed his problem; putting it down to something she called 'croas' which, as near as he could figure, was some sort of really intense migraine. He'd been in here for a week now, and while his classmates were kind enough to bring his assignments to him every evening after classes and pick them up in the mornings, it still wasn't the same as attending class and he found himself missing that. Ever since Professors Dumbledore and Snape had come by to talk with him, Jim had had a few more 'migraines' and Madam Pomfrey wasn't ready to let him return to classes until she was sure he wouldn't have another. And even though he'd listened to the Headmaster's theory about what was wrong with him, Jim wasn't sure he bought into it but he also admitted that it was worth thinking about.

The door to the ward opened with a muffled bang, and Jim looked up from his Arthimancy work as the Weasley twins came in. "Hello, Jimmy!" one of them called out. He was sure it was Fred as he was still sporting a slightly bruised ear. "Madam Pomfrey still has you cooped up in here, eh?"

"Yeah, and it's driving me crazy." Jim closed his books, after marking his place with his quill, and looked up at his redheaded visitors. "What're you two doing here?"

George smiled as he answered, "We're hoping to get sprung from our restrictions today. Ron or Harry tell you about how the reservists are shaping up?" Jim nodded, having heard from his classmates about who'd made the team as primaries or backups. "Well, as good as Harry and Seamus are in our slots, and Ginny in Harry's, we've got a pretty tough game coming up against Hufflepuff and, well ..."

"You and Fred just have to play, right?" Jim teased the brothers.

"Of course!" Fred crowed. "I mean, not to knock our little sister's talent or anything, but Harry's the best Seeker this school's seen in years and we really need him in that position."

"Better not let her hear you say that, Fred, you know Gin's got mom's temper."

Jim let out a chuckle as both brothers shivered, as if in fear of their sister's temper. Before he could ask anything else about the team and what the twins thought their chances were in the upcoming game, Madam Pomfrey entered the ward.

"Ah good! Both of you are on time for once." She bustled over to Jim's bed and with a calculating eye assessed him, then turned her gaze to the twins. "You'd best not be tiring out my patient, Misters Weasley. Now, I'm sure you want to get your exams over with so you can either get back to playing pranks, practicing Quidditch or moping about and garnering sympathy points from the girls ... so come on. Let's get this drama over with." Jim watched as she escorted the two older students into her office and closed the door behind them. Opening his Arthimancy book again, intending to get back to work on his studies, he found himself thinking instead about items of interest that had be relayed to him over the past week.

Rumors had been flying fast and furious about the school, and his classmates had brought him every juicy detail, helping Jim to pass the time. One included the Weasley twins and how they just had to be misleading Madam Pomfrey about how they were, or weren't, healing from their injuries so they could sit back and watch the various Quidditch teams practice and then take their observations back to Alicia Spinnet, Captain of the Gryffindor team.

Two others were about Professor Snape. But Jim understood from Harry, Ron and Hermione the one about Snape being a vampire made the rounds every year and could usually be traced back to some first year student. The second one was just confusing; Snape had been calling every student in the school into his office after class hours, starting with the Slytherins and asking some very odd questions before dismissing them. No one, as yet, had a clue as to what the Professor was up to.

Yet a couple of other rumors that were brought to him, by Neville Longbottom, were about relationships which had sprung up between some of their fellow fifth years. Including - Hermione was dating a fellow out of Ravenclaw and spending a lot of time in the library with him; Ron was reportedly not happy about this and had started to chase Lavender Brown around, trying to get Hermione's attention. Harry was reportedly seeing someone from within Gryffindor but no one could, or would, tell who the lucky girl was. The latest nearly made Jim puke - reportedly, but NO ONE was brave enough to find out for sure, Crabbe and Goyle from Slytherin were 'more than just friends.' Not that it really mattered to Jim what Slytherin students did to each other, as long as he wasn't forced to think about it too much, or watch.

By far the most interesting rumor floating about the school had been that the former Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who was now playing as a starter for Puddlemere United, had been seen on school grounds and was reportedly training Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley various Keeper techniques.

That rumor had proven true one late evening when the only female Weasley and a tall, thin but sturdy-looking, young man had come into the medical ward, holding Dean Thomas up between them. Apparently the whole team had been out practicing in a down pour, when Ron had pitched the Quaffle toward one of the goals at the same time Seamus Finnegan had hit a Bludger toward Dean (a fair move when a goal was being attempted) and the Keeper's attention had been pulled in the wrong direction. Dean had caught the Quaffle, but had gotten clobbered in the chest by the Bludger and then fell to the sandy pit below, the wind completely knocked out of him. While Madam Pomfrey treated Dean, Ginny had brought the strange young man over to Jim and introduced him. Afterwards, Jim and Oliver Wood had gotten into a discussion about Quidditch and the Muggle sports of football and cricket. Ginny put in her two pence every now and then, scoring excellent points in Jim's eyes every time she made Wood concede she was right about similarities in the sports. Before too long Ginny and Oliver excused themselves, not wanting to incur the wrath of Hogwart's Mediwitch for tiring her patient and Jim returned his attention to his Arithmancy homework.

The door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened again and the twins came out, but one of them was wearing a pair of glasses and Jim was pretty sure it wasn't George. "Now, Frederick ... you come back in about a week and I'll test your eyes again. It could be a temporary thing, this fuzziness of your vision, caused by the blow you took, but in the meantime you're to wear those spectacles. Especially when reading! Rest your eyes often," she handed a small wrapped bundle to him, "and make sure you use this medicine when you use the warm compress."

Then the Mediwitch turned her attention to the other brother, "And, George, here's your pain medication. Use it only as instructed and only when the pain is unbearable." Madam Pomfrey handed something else to the remaining twin. "The bones in your hip are fully healed, just like the ones in your brother's head are, but you will still experience some pain once in a while as the muscles get used to sitting on a broom for hours and hours again." She smiled at the two Weasleys. "Yes, before you ask, I am clearing you for Quidditch Practice again. But the day before your match against my old House, you'll report here for a full physical so I can assess whether or not you're fit for regulation play. Don't worry about my judgment. I have a friend of mine who's agreed to do the exam for me on that day and I promise you, he's a former Ravenclaw so it won't matter to him one wit whether or not you're fit to beat the snot out of my old team. Now, shoo, both of you, I have another patient to attend to."

Jim cringed in his bed, thinking Madam Pomfrey was referring to him, but no sooner had the twins left the ward, another door at the far end of the room burst open and Professor McGonagall came in, supporting someone who was leaning heavily on her.

"Poppy! It has happened again, he needs your assistance."

Jim watched as McGonagall helped the person she was half carrying into a bed, black hair obscuring their features, before Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains around the new patient's bed, hiding him from Jim's sight.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Jim tried to listen to the hushed tone of conversation and was rewarded with being able to hear the whispered words without getting a splitting headache.

"...Cruciatus Curse from the looks of it. Help me get him into a more comfortable position, Minnie." Sounds of a body shifting over sheets rasped loudly in his ears, but Jim didn't flinch and kept his hearing focused. "That's good, can't have him choking on the potion, can I? Now, Sev, tell me ... how many times were you hit?" Madam Pomfrey's voice was gentle but she was clearly concerned about the welfare of her patient. As well she should be. From what he recalled of the Cruciatus Curse, the more times you were hit with it the higher the chance it could cause permanent damage and, in some cases, even death -- a very painful death.

The patient didn't answer at first, seemingly concentrating on merely breathing, but even that sounded pained. The voice was tantalizing familiar to Jim's ears, but he had to concentrate to hear the labored answer. "Not sure. Lost count ... after the ... twelfth, Poppy."

Professor Snape! He'd been hit with multiple Cruciatus? And lived to tell the tale? Jim's opinion of the Potions Master jumped a peg or two. The ability to tolerate pain was something his own father had tried to help Jim attain, especially after it became apparent that he wanted to play Quidditch.

"I don't know why Albus keeps asking you to take these risks, nor why you feel you have to atone for your past actions by taking them." Swishing noises reached Jim, as did the sound of Madam Pomfrey's shoes as she apparently moved around the bed. "'Scuse me, Min. All right, here you go, Sev. The potion is ready and just as you like it, drink up now."

A soft hand on his shoulder drew Jim's attention away from the curtained off area, and he turned his head to see Professor Dumbledore standing beside him. "It's not polite to listen in on other's conversations, young Ellison."

"Is Professor Snape going to be all right, Professor?"

The Headmaster sat on the edge of the bed next to him before he answered. "He's a man of great inner strength, Jimmy. He will recover and probably despise himself for the perceived weakness which forced him to seek out assistance. It's not a weakness but I've spent years trying to convince him of that to no avail." Blue eyes above half-moon shaped glasses met his gaze, concern shadowing them at their depths. "And how are you this evening? Any pain from listening so intently to a conversation which will remain private?"

The order was subtle, but explicit. Whatever Snape had been doing to warrant getting hit more than once by an Unforgivable was to remain the secret of the Potions Master, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and, most likely, Dumbledore himself. Jim nodded his understanding of the silent order. "Just a slight headache, Professor, nothing I can't survive without resorting to the potions Madam Pomfrey likes to pawn off on me."

"Good, good." Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder again. "I'm hoping Professor Snape will be able to return to his research into helping you further once he's over the pain that's been inflicted on him tonight." The Headmaster stood up. "In the mean time, now that Poppy's managed to get at least a small amount of her vile potion down his throat, I'd best go talk to him before the Professor falls asleep. Good night, Jimmy."

Jim waited until the Headmaster disappeared behind the curtain before he returned his attention to his homework. He found it difficult to concentrate as his brain continued to try to figure out what happened to Professor Snape, but after a few minutes of pointless wondering, he managed to drag his mind back to his Arithmancy book. He'd just finished answering the final question, an essay one, when Professor McGonagall appeared at his bedside. "Mister Ellison, keeping up on all your studies?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Let's see how well you studied the assignment from this afternoon." She brought forth a good-sized skink from a pocket in her robe, even as Jim dug his wand out from under his pillow. Then she proceeded to test his skill in transfiguring the reptile into a teapot, then a lump of pyrite and back to its natural form. By the time she was done testing him, Jim was worn out, and after the Professor left, he placed his books on the bedside table and crawled under the covers.

***

Blair rarely paid attention to the many idle and speculative stories which ran rampant through the halls of Hogwarts; most being too ludicrous to possibly be true and others clearly just jealous gossip, but now that had changed. Just after breakfast, as he was making his way to his Care of Magical Creatures class, a house elf tugged on his school robes, getting his attention.

"Master Sandburg, sir?" The squeaky voice was higher in pitch than he was used to from a house elf and this one was wearing what appeared to be a young girl's dressy-dress, so he pegged it as a female and, since she was wearing actual clothing...

"You must be Winky." He addressed the elf directly and smiled at her as she nodded vigorously. "What can I do for you, Winky?"

"I has a note for you. Brought it fastly, sir, so I's can take your answer as well." She handed him a small envelope, then folded her hands demurely in front of her skirt.

"Gimme a moment?" He waited until she nodded again before opening the ivory colored packet. The ink inside was a deep shade of purple, until Blair shifted the page in the light and then it changed to a dark, dark shade of green. Reading the missive inside, he felt his blood rush from his face. "Uh, Winky, did the Professor say anything about this to you?"

Winky looked up at him in alarm, "Oh no, sir! Is not my business, is between you and he."

"So you have no idea why--"

"No, master, none."

Settling his book bag's strap more comfortably on his shoulder, Blair shoved the note and it's envelope into his robe pocket. "It's okay, Winky. Tell the Professor I'll come to see him as soon as I can after classes this afternoon. Okay?"

"Yes! I's can be doing that easily!" With a small pop of noise, and before he could think to ask or tell her anything else, the female house elf disappeared. He was still wondering about the note when Terry Boot, a fellow fifth year Ravenclaw, came running down the main staircase and nearly ran him over.

"Oh hey! Sorry about that, Blair!" Terry apologized as he reached out to help Blair regain his balance. "Whoa, what's with the face? I didn't hurt you, did I? Can't have our back-up Seeker knocked out by a teammate, can we?"

Blair laughed as he fell into step beside Terry, both of them making their way across the lawn toward Hagrid's hut and the corral nearby. "You didn't hurt me, Terry. So you don't need to worry about Cho using your guts for garters." It was an odd phrase, and very few of the 'Claws knew where Chang had picked it up from, but the visual image that came with it was enough to keep the team in check and listening to their Captain.

"Yeah, not too sure I'd want to be the first student the Capt'n tries that on ... but you didn't answer me? What was with the hang-dog look earlier?"

They were nearly to the paddock where Hagrid was holding a bunch of youngling rock trolls before Blair answered. "Terry, have you heard anything about why Professor Snape's been calling students of all years to his office?"

Terry's normally healthy tan face blanched. "You got a note?" Blair nodded and pulled the envelope out to show his housemate. "I don't know for certain what he's up to, I mean, I got my note a week ago and went. Scared me half to death. I thought I'd screwed up on my essay on which potions to use to combat the after affects of Cruciatus. But all he did when I got there was to stare at me for about three minutes before he asked one question then dismissed me once I'd given my answer."

"What was the question?"

"Kind of weird, especially coming from Snape. He wanted to know if I'd ever experienced visions, or felt other people's emotional state."

"That is weird." Blair and Terry stopped a few paces back from the large gathering of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws attending the class. "Terry, have you talked to any others who have been called into see the Professor? Is it always the same treatment and question?"

Terry dropped his book bag on the ground next to the large pile of other bags before answering. "Yeah, I talked to Chang afterwards; she'd gone in for the same treatment four days before. And, no, the only thing that's the same is the silent glare, the question's been different for everyone I've talked to."

The Ravenclaw Chaser moved away to get closer to the corral, leaving Blair still wondering what the heck the Potions Master was up to and why he seemed to be working his way down through the student population of Hogwarts. His mind started to multitask on its own, one part paying close attention to Hagrid's lecture on rock trolls while another part was more concerned about the upcoming interview with Professor Snape. In the back of his mind, Blair was still trying to figure out why Hunters and their Attendants were so important to the early efforts to battle the Dark Arts.

***

Convincing Ron to show Hermione the 'worthless scribble' he'd done in Advanced Divination class hadn't been easy. Not with Ron distracted by the arrival in the Gryffindor common room of George and Fred, who was wearing glasses that looked a lot like Percy's. Ron had started teasing his brother about the eyewear, while George tried to explain to Hermione, Harry, Ginny and the rest of the House Quidditch team that the glasses were temporary and that both he and Fred had been cleared to start practicing again. Fred and Ron had nearly come to blows over the eyewear and unflattering comparisons to Percy before Ginny stepped into the fray and took control.

Harry had to admit watching her was like watching Mrs. Weasley lay into them but it also proved to him that Ginny was more than capable of taking care of herself. Within minutes she'd had Ron apologizing to Fred and vice-versa, then after talking to both of the twins and reading the instructions on the medications Madam Pomfrey had sent back to the dorm with them, she'd hustled her older brothers up to their dorm and probably started fussing over them.

He used Ginny's absence from the Common Room to show Hermione Ron's scribble. Harry watched as Hermione studied the verse, her free hand absently stroking Crookshanks along his spine, where the cat rested on Ron's lap and her face showed a number of fleeting emotions. "Well, you're right, Ron - it's not exactly poetic and if you apply it to Harry, it almost fits. But the third line really blows that theory right out of the water. 'Hide away, far away' certainly doesn't jibe with what we both know Harry would do if such an opportunity presented itself."

"That's what I thought, too, Hermione." Ron nodded, his head resting on her shoulder as he'd been reading his own scribble from behind her. "But look at the first two lines I wrote without thinking about it: 'Hunter and prey - Danger lurking.' That's what made me think it might apply to Harry."

"It could apply to just about anyone, Ron," Hermione responded, not seeming to care that Ron was using her as a pillow. "The more I read over this the more I think you somehow missed some words when you were doing that 'automatic writing' crap Trelawney was trying to teach."

Harry couldn't help but smirk when Hermione made her statement about the subject Professor Trelawney was focusing on this week. "What do you mean, Hermione?"

She leaned forward to grab a quill and a piece of parchment from the low table in front of her, causing Ron to lose his balance and fall sideways on the couch behind her. "Sorry, Ron. Look here, Harry ... add a word here, and here and here ... see what I mean? It almost becomes clear but like with most predictions it's still murky enough to not mean anything." She flipped the paper around so he could read it without craning his neck. She was right; the added words did help, but still left everything in a gray area that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

Hunter and prey

Danger (always) lurking

Hide (them) away, far away

(Their) Time will come later.

"Of course, I only added random words that occurred to me when I read it through the seventh time, and I could be totally wrong, but it just goes to demonstrate why Divination is so imprecise." Hermione picked up the paper again and read over the verse once more, while she absently chewed on her quill and leaned back into Ron's stomach. "Yes, I can see a number of ways to add more words to this to force it to make some sort of sense, but to do that would ruin it and possibly negate the prediction."

Harry nodded. "It's almost like trying to read tea leaves ... turn the cup one way and you come up with a crook or a star, turn it around and it looks like a hat or Professor Trelawney's favorite symbol - the Grim." He smiled as he poked fun at the Professor's predictable prognostication that came his way at the start of every year. She was forever seeing a Grim in his future, a grisly death at the hands of a more powerful foe or even a debilitating injury. It'd gotten so bad that Harry learned to just ignore her while Ron, and the majority of their housemates in the class, chuckle every time she made that type of prediction. The only exceptions to the laughter were Lavender and Pavarti, who took the 'fine art of divination' far too seriously for Harry's tastes.

Hermione smiled and threw her quill onto the table. "Exactly. I don't know of any of the professors here who take that old fraud seriously, Harry. The whole idea behind reading 'the signs' in a bunch of wet leaves, planetary alignments or even in words the subconscious mind conjures up to write is really quite silly." She turned her head to the left to look down at Ron who still hadn't moved or protested being made into a back cushion. "Not that I think your words are stupid, Ron, but even you have to admit that Divination is no where as precise as Arthimancy."

Ron's hand crept up over Hermione's left shoulder and grasped it gently. "Oi, I'm not disagreeing with you, Hermione. Merlin knows Harry and I've been snowing the old fraud since second year with all our off-the-cuff 'predictions' - and she's bought every one of them. Heck, she's even praised Harry and I more than once for our 'unflinching acceptance of our darker than dark' futures. You'd think a true Seer would be able to see the difference between a fib and the truth, don't you, Harry?"

"Yeah." Harry sat back in the wingback chair, his brain flitting about trying to come up with some sort of answer to what Ron's scribbled verse meant and whom it was possibly for. After a few minutes of companionable silence ticked by, he had a thought occur to him just as Ginny returned from seeing to Fred and George. She sat down on the arm of his chair as Harry asked his question, "Ron, I know I already asked this once, back in class, but are you sure you weren't thinking about anything when you were supposed to be blanking out your mind?"

Ron's face scrunched up in thought, then he shifted a little on the couch until Hermione got the idea he wanted to sit up and moved so he could do so without dislodging Crookshanks from his lap. "You know, I thought about that all during Transfiguration and I'm not sure, but I was probably thinking about Quidditch." They all laughed and Ron blushed furiously. "Okay, okay ... so I'm pretty one-tracked minded."

Ginny's body shook with suppressed laughter but her voice didn't show it when she spoke up, "You're talking about that verse you showed me at dinner, aren't you, Ron?" She waited for his silent answer before continuing, "Okay, what if the prediction is related not so much to Quidditch but one of our teammates?"

Harry felt like he'd had a light switch thrown in his mind. "She's got a point, Ron. Remember how last night you were complaining about having three Beaters out of action at the same time? What if that carried over into your subconscious and came out in the verse?"

Ginny slipped off her perch on Harry's chair, picked up the paper with her brother's odd verse on it and read over it again. "No, I'm afraid that doesn't work either, Harry. See?" She came back to her post on Harry's right side and leaned in so he could read the paper with her and follow her finger as Ginny pointed out the lines in question. "If you apply the game to the first two lines, it sort of works - but again, if you do that it pretty much points at you."

"How do you figure that?" he asked.

"It's simple. Look: 'Hunter and prey' - that could be a Seeker and the snitch, right?" He nodded, conceding the point. "Then there's line two, 'Danger lurking' - that could easily be a reference to the Bludgers that come your way during a game. But then we come to the last two lines and the whole Quidditch connection falls apart."

Harry had to concur with Ginny's conclusions. "She's right. Damn, and I thought I was on to something with that theory." He looked over at Ron and noticed how his friend making motions with his head and eyes toward Hermione, who appeared to be talking to herself. Together, he and Ginny leaned forward to see if they could hear was she was saying when the fifth year witch suddenly sat up straight, elbowing Ron in the ribs and causing Crookshanks to lose his balance and careen to the floor in a hissing, seething fit.

"Oh! Sorry, Ron. Sorry, Crookshanks. It's not about Quidditch! Ron's prediction is about a Quidditch player!" She leapt from the couch. "Don't move. I'll be right back! I just need my notes...." And Hermione disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, leaving behind a confused group. While she was gone, Ron managed to coax Crookshanks back onto his lap and was stroking the cat's fur, causing the large, dusty orange feline to purr loud enough for Harry to hear it. By the time Hermione returned, carrying a muggle-style wire bound notebook, Crookshanks seemed to have fallen asleep. "Here, here it is ... I knew I'd seen the terminology somewhere in my reading. Look at this, Harry." She pushed the notebook into his hands before going back to sit on the couch next to Ron, where she started to scratch her cat's ears in apology for upsetting him earlier.

Reading over her meticulous notes, Harry tried to ignore Ginny as she leaned over his shoulder to read what Hermione had pointed out. The section of her notes pertained to an old book Sandburg had found and, according to the smaller notes in the margin of the page, had gone back to more than once. "Any idea what this book, Children of the Hunt, is about, Hermione?"

"Not fully. I only skimmed it when Blair showed it to me weeks ago, but I remember that it referred to the 'children' as 'Hunters' when talking about them in general." Her brow furrowed in thought. "I seem to recall seeing the term 'Hunter' used when the author was talking about a particular member of the Hunt." Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. "I'll have to talk to Blair again in the morning to see if I'm right, but I think the book was about the very first Aurors."

Harry tossed the notebook onto the table, landing it right next to Ron's scribbled verse from Divination, as he reached up to remove his glasses and scrubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his left hand. "Right, tomorrow. That's soon enough to handle this little mystery. Besides, we still have to work out the antidote for that potion Snape assigned to us last week and, I don't know about you two, but I haven't even figured out half the ingredients."

His simple admission caused an electric reaction in his classmates and for the first time Harry could remember, Hermione looked a bit panicked about an assignment. The reason became clear when she pulled her Double Advanced Potions books out of her bag, and started researching herbs, roots, exotic magical animals and other stuff -- Hermione had actually not started on the assignment. With a little help from Ginny, whose own homework was done, the three fifth years were able to finish their assignment before midnight and everyone staggered up to their beds.

***

Blair glanced at the huge clock in the main corridor just off the Great Hall as he made his way down dimly lit stairwells on his nocturnal trip from the Ravenclaw House to the dungeons. The caretaker, Filch, had already stopped him once on his journey, just outside of his House, and had demanded to why he was out of his dorm at 10 in the evening. Not saying anything, Blair had offered up the note he'd gotten from Professor Snape to the sour-faced man, who'd read it, shoved it back into his hand and told Blair to "get a move on."

Now, he was approaching the Potions Classroom and knew Professor Snape's office had to be nearby but wasn't sure where to start looking. The note from the Potions Master had told him to be on time, which was scheduled to be fifteen after the hour, but hadn't said how to find the office. Not seeing any doors in the immediate area of the dank dungeon hallway, Blair tried the door to the Potions classroom and, finding it unlocked, entered and found the room lit with only a few torches over by the professor's desk. A bookcase swung open behind the huge desk and Professor Snape stepped out of the opening, glared at him, then gestured for Blair to follow him back through the opening.

He must not have moved fast enough because Snape's voice roared through the portal to echo throughout the empty classroom. "Quit dawdling, Sandburg!"

Blair hurried through the hidden passageway, trying not to physically flinch when the door slammed closed behind him. He skidded to a halt in front of the Potions Master's desk in the man's private domain. Clasping his hands behind his back and trying very hard not to fidget, he waited for the process Terry had warned him about to begin. It didn't take long.

It began with a staring contest as the professor looked intently at him from across the desk. Blair was proud of himself as he managed to hold that gaze without becoming uneasy. Instead, he used light in the large office to study the Professor as much as the man seemed to be studying him.

The first thing he noticed was that, despite previously conceived notions, the Professor's eyes weren't black. They were a very dark shade of hazel, but they weren't black. The next thing Blair noticed was the flickers of pain he saw flashing through those eyes, and the way Snape's face tightened slightly before the flares faded back to a dull glow.

If there was one thing Blair couldn't stand was to see another person in pain, any kind of pain and he wondered if there was anything he could do to ease it. Holding the Professor's gaze, wishing for some way to lessen the hurt he perceived in that dark stare, Blair felt something within him expand outward and move to restrain the pain he was actually starting to feel in his own body. Using techniques his mother had taught him, he imagined a cooling gel or solution lying across frayed nerve endings. As the old torments started to fade, Blair felt his body shift in some inexplicable way and he was startled to see the often-cruel Potions Master smile faintly.

"Enough, Sandburg. Sit down." Snape's voice broke his concentration and Blair found himself suddenly sitting in a chair that hadn't been in front of the desk when he'd come in. "That is an unusual talent you just displayed, young man. Tell me, do you have any idea of what you just did?"

Blair shook his head, still trying to get reoriented to his surroundings after having done whatever it was he'd done.

Snape didn't say anything immediately, just reached out to a goblet on the desk, tapping a couple of drops of some unknown potion into it before picking it up and drinking the contents in a single swallow. "Well, once your studies are done here at Hogwarts, Sandburg, you might look into training as a Mediwizard."

"I want to teach, Professor Snape, not tend the sick, the ill and dying--" He snapped his mouth shut, not wanting to appear heartless, but the expression which crossed the Professor's face looked as if he was expecting him to continue. Blair held his tongue, still not sure why he was in the man's office in the first place.

"Be that as it may, you have a very rare talent there, Mr. Sandburg." Snape's eyes bored into him again, and this time Blair flinched. Whatever the Potions Master was doing, other than staring, felt intensely personal and very unpleasant, however it didn't last long. "Refreshing. You are the first student who hasn't broken eye contact with me and actually managed to do more than piss your robes." The Professor stood up and came around the desk to stand in front of Blair. "Mister Sandburg, aren't you one of the students helping that Gryffindor, Ellison?"

Blair saw no reason to lie. "Yes, sir. But you knew that already. Hermione Granger told me you were in the meeting in Headmaster Dumbledore's office shortly after Ellison was taken to the Hospital wing."

"You have a mind for details; that's good. It also explains why you've never screwed up a potion in my class." Snape pulled another chair over, sitting down and facing Blair. "Mister Sandburg, I'm also trying to help out Mister Ellison and I think you may be a key - if not the key - to aiding him. I have a small test I want to perform on you, if you're agreeable?"

"What sort of test? Wasn't that whole 'stare deep into my soul' thing enough of a test for you?" Blair bit his tongue, not quite believing he was being so blunt and flippant to a Professor, even in private.

Blair thought he saw the professor nearly smirk, but the expression was quickly quashed. "That was just a preliminary test, which you passed." Snape stood up and shed his robe, leaving the cassock style tunic and the rest of his clothing intact. He tossed the robe over the top of his desk before sitting down again. "If you're willing to take the next test, it'll be proof to me that you may be the aid which Ellison requires. It will not be an easy trial."

Blair sat back in his seat, his thoughts whirling around in his head. "Will it hurt?"

"No, but it might be ... unpleasant."

Chewing on his lip, Blair thought about what had already happened in the office and the words that had been said. "If I pass this exam of yours, my life's going to change, isn't it, Professor?"

Snape didn't answer at first, just looked at him with a blank expression. "Yes, it will. Whether that change will be for the better or for the worse is up to Fate."

"What do I have to do?"

The Professor leaned forward, his elbows braced on the arms of the chair he was in, his voice low with almost an ethereal quality. "Somewhere in this room is an area or an object which has been infused with dark magic. All you have to do is find it; locate it but do not touch it." Snape sat back again, his pose relaxed. "Begin your search whenever you're ready, Sandburg."

Blair stood up and looked around the room, not exactly sure if what he was looking for was an object, a patch of air or something else entirely. Wandering away from the Professor and toward a large, over-crowded bookshelf, he tried to open his mind and sense the chill his mother told him accompanied all dark magic. After minutes of fruitless searching, Blair came to a halt in the middle of the room and closed his eyes, sure that his vision was interfering with whatever it was he was supposed to be doing for the Potion Master's test.

There! Over by the Professor! Blair opened his eyes and walked up to the older man, his hands outstretched like a blind man's, until his right hand brushed the air directly above the Professor's left arm. It was frigid, almost cold enough to cause physical discomfort and Blair pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned.

"Very good, Sandburg. You found it much faster than I guessed you would." Snape was rolling up the sleeve on his left arm and then turned the bare appendage so Blair could see the red-tinged tattoo on it. "This is the Dark Mark, burned into my flesh many years ago by Lord Voldemort himself, back when I was young and stupid." He rolled the sleeve back down, stood up and slipped back into his robe. "You are now one of the few students in this school who knows what I once was."

He'd been repulsed by the mark marring the smooth skin of the Potions Master's arm when he'd first sensed it; now Blair thought he understood. "The pain you feel and try to hide ... its not just from that mark and your past deeds, is it Professor?"

Snape sighed. "No, it's not. But I've kept you from your studies and your bed long enough, Mister Sandburg. Return to your House, speak of this to no one and tomorrow after lunch meet me outside the hospital wing."

"Yes, sir." Blair left Snape's office, still uncertain of what he'd done, or how, and more puzzled than ever. Checking a nearby clock, he realized he'd been closeted in Snape's office for over an hour, even though it hadn't felt like it had been that long. After he was down the hallway far enough for the Professor not to hear him, Blair broke into a run and sprinted back to the Ravenclaw common room. Life, he decided, was getting unequivocally weird.

***

The only way a person could sleep through the racket made by seven years worth of Gryffindors bustling to get ready to face the long school day was if they'd been slipped some kind of sleeping potion. However, in Ron's defense, they had been up rather late last night and he'd grown up in a house full of siblings (the twins causing the most ruckus), but Harry still had to thwap his friend on the head with a pillow four times before the redhead retaliated.

"Geroff, Harry!" Ron's voice cut through the pandemonium coming from outside their dorm room, causing more than a few fellow Gryffs to stick their heads in to see who was getting murdered. Between Harry, Dean, Neville and Seamus the fifth years managed to rouse their lazy bug-a-bed roommate out of his nest.

Handing his dorm mate the long, white and blue striped robe he usually wore only in the mornings, Harry chastised him, "Ron, we're going to be late picking up Jim's assignments, which will make us late to breakfast, which will put me in the dog house with Ginny for a week. So get up already!"

The other three inhabitants of the fifth year dormitory wisely left at this point. They didn't hear the muttered reply, which came out of Ron's mouth as he gathered his clothing and finally made his way to the showers. "Only a week? Gin's being too nice, Hermione would probably leave me in there for three ... at least."

Harry's jaw hit the floor as Ron left the dorm. Recovering his wits, Harry headed down to the common room, leaving Ron to his own devices, and found both Ginny and Hermione waiting.

"Ron's being a bear this morning, isn't he?" Ginny asked as she greeted him with a good morning peck on the cheek. "Neville and the others came down too early for Ron to have been his normal, cheerful self."

"Yeah, he is. Took far longer to wake him up than it normally does," Harry replied as he looked over Ginny's shoulders to see Hermione looking like she hadn't slept much either. "Hermione, you feeling okay?"

"Just tired, Harry." Neither he, Ginny, or anyone else in the common room at that moment could've missed the furious blush that suddenly colored the Gryffindor Prefect's face, but she recovered quickly enough. "Ginny, would you mind going with Harry to the hospital wing to pick up Jim's assignments? I'll just wait here for Ron to come down then we'll both meet you in the Dining Hall. All right?"

"Sure, Hermione, not a problem," Ginny answered as she grabbed Harry's hand and led him out the portrait hole to the hallway. "I wondered how she was going to arrange that," she said as they started the walk to Madam Pomfrey's area of control.

"I don't understand ... when did they finally talk?" Harry asked Ginny as they walked through the halls, trying to avoid being seen actually holding hands by anyone who wasn't a Gryffindor.

"Late last night and into this morning." Ginny smiled up at him, her warm brown eyes sparkling in mirth. "Shortly after we all went to bed, I recalled that I had left my book bag in the common room and crept down to snag it, only to hear them talking in the passageway."

"I never heard him leave the room last night. No wonder Ron was so hard to wake up this morning." They had reached the door into the hospital ward and Harry held the door open for Ginny as they passed through the portal. Seeing Jim was wide awake, Harry debated about telling his dorm mate and fellow Quidditch team member about Ron's turn of luck, but Jim beat him to it.

"From the looks on your faces, the rumor has got to be true," Jim stated as Harry and Ginny approached his bed.

"What do you mean, Jimmy?" Ginny inquired as she started to pack the fifth year's books into his bag, which he'd been trying to pack himself.

"Neville already came through and told me all about it." Jim smiled as he looked up at Harry. "It seems like a match made in heaven to me ... two Quidditch players hooking up."

"What?" Harry wasn't sure he'd heard right. And, from the stunned expression on Ginny's face, she wasn't sure she'd heard Jim correctly either.

"You two! Neville told me he suspected it about a week ago but said your antics in the common room recently clinched it for him. Congratulations."

The bag finally packed, Ginny hefted Jim's assignments and books onto her shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Oh, that old tale. I thought you were quicker to catch on than that, Jimmy."

The blank expression on Ellison's face made Harry chuckle, "He hasn't heard, Ginny. Shall we enlighten him or leave him in the dark?"

"Oh, I dunno ... leaving him in obscurity would be a good way to pay him back for the teasing ... but then again, it could be dangerous for his health." Her tone remained amiable while she debated, out loud, the possible courses of action she and Harry could take.

"Dangerous to my health?" Jim sounded very confused now and Harry decided to have pity on the temporarily disabled Beater.

"Ron and Hermione are the newest 'couple' in the Gryffindor tower, Jim."

"When the heck did that happen?"

Ginny let loose with an infectious laugh and soon they were all laughing as they managed to relay as much of the tale of Ron and Hermione's 'courtship' as they knew. Their giggle-fest must have disturbed Madam Pomfrey's morning cup of tea for she came hustling out of her office to shoo Harry and Ginny out of the ward and started fussing over Jim before they had even left.

When they entered the Dining Hall, Harry spotted Ron and Hermione already sitting at the long table assigned for their house and, mornings being very informal, he directed Ginny to where her brother and his girlfriend sat. Breakfast was pretty subdued; most people either not being fully awake or having their heads bend over books and scrolls working up to the last minute on assignments. No sooner had everyone cleared their plates, the post started flying in on silent owl wings, and the air was filled with the sounds of envelopes, parcels and at least one howler (for someone in Slytherin) slapping into outstretched hands. Harry wasn't expecting anything but was surprised to see a letter for him, as well as identical ones being delivered to Ron and Hermione as well.

Harry ripped open the pale yellow envelope addressed to him in emerald ink and read the short note inside:

Your presence is required outside the Hospital Wing after the lunch break today.

Do not be late.

Arrangements have been made to cover your afternoon classes.

Dumbledore

Glancing over at Ron and Hermione's letters, Harry discovered they were the same as his. "I wonder what's come up?"

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea, maybe it's about Jim?"

"Maybe." Harry looked up toward the head table to see Dumbledore smiling back at him and then he let his glance slide across the rest of the professors present for the morning meal. No one was missing but he couldn't help but notice Snape looked somewhat pleased with himself.

A shudder worked its way down Harry's spine. Whenever Professor Snape looked that happy in the morning before having to deal with the combined classes of Slytherins and Gryffindors in Double Advanced Potions it usually meant trouble -- especially for himself, Ron, Hermione and Neville.

It was going to be a very long morning.

***

Spending mornings in the hospital wing while his fellow classmates attended classes all over the school wasn't Jim's idea of fun. Nor was the reaction he seemed to have every morning to the sheets his bed was made up in. Working closely with the house elves, Madam Pomfrey and Jim had been trying to find any cleaning solutions that wouldn't cause an allergic reaction on his exposed skin after a night's contact.

The hidden bathing pool, with its demineralized waters and soothing additives had become part of Jim's daily routine. Along with a trip down to the laundry with the house elves to see if the latest samples of cleaners bothered his nose before the elves washed sheets, blankets and hospital pajamas in hopes the newest product would prove to be 'the one.'

He returned from the laundry with the same thought he usually had, that the latest trial product would work, and he actually felt pretty good about the powder the elves were to try today. It was a muggle-made washing powder designed for babies and people with very sensitive skin; it hadn't had a fragrance he could detect. And according to the label it had no dyes or phosphates, which seemed to be ingredients that irritated Jim's skin just by getting too close to them. He wouldn't know for sure until the bed clothing and pajamas were returned that afternoon. In the mean time, Jim had started to wear regular clothes again and taking the occasional dip in the medicinal pool as needed. He'd also managed to get Madam Pomfrey to play a hand or two of exploding snap when she wasn't too busy.

This morning was different. The Mediwitch had begged off their morning game of snap with the excuse that there was a first year class getting its first flying lesson from Madam Hooch. And when Pomfrey had admitted it was a class comprised of Slytherins and Gryffindors, he knew the Mediwitch had best attend or be close at hand. Neville Longbottom's cousin had been sorted into the Gryffs earlier in the term and had already had more accidents than Neville reportedly had had in his first year. A natural born klutz on a broom for the first time in their life was a recipe for disaster.

The class must have gone well though, for the only reported mishap the Mediwitch reported on during lunch was a sprained ankle caused by a rough landing - to a Slytherin. He'd just finished his meal when Madam Pomfrey sprang a surprise on Jim.

"Ellison, the Headmaster and Professor Snape will be here shortly. They think they may have found something to help you with the ... sensory issues you've been experiencing."

"Really? That means I might be able to leave here today?"

"Maybe. Have you had any more headaches since the one the night before last?"

He shook his head, not exactly being truthful for he'd had a minor headache for over a week, but they weren't the mind-busting migraines of earlier.

"And the only other reactions you've had have been to the cleaning supplies?" Again, he nodded, this time being totally honest. "Well, if what those two have cooked up works, then I might just consent to letting you return to your dorm and your normal course studies." She picked up the trays the house elves had brought their lunches on and gestured with her chin, as her hands were full. "You might want to spiff up a bit, they should be arriving momentarily."

Jim nodded and nearly ran toward the bathing room. One fast dip in the pool wouldn't hurt and might help, his hair needed to be controlled again as the strands had gotten tangled while in the laundry room.

***

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the Hospital Wing after lunch. They managed to catch up to Blair who they'd seen leave the Ravenclaw table earlier. Harry thought it a coincidence and let his mind wonder why he and his friends had been requested to meet the Headmaster in the hall outside the medical ward.

Noticing how the Ravenclaw student was seemingly walking with the same destination in mind, Harry called out a quiet question, "Sandburg, did Professor Dumbledore ask for you to meet him here as well?"

Blair shook his head. "No, Professor Snape told me to be here. What's going on?"

"We're as much in the dark as you are, Blair," Hermione answered

"Well, let us hope you don't remain in the shadows much longer, Miss Granger." Professor Snape's voice slithered through Harry's ears and he turned to see him approaching their little group.

"Now, Severus, don't confuse them any more than they already are." A second voice pulled his attention back around to the other end of the hall. With relief, Harry noticed Professor Dumbledore standing quietly with his companion phoenix, Fawkes, perched on his shoulder. "I see you have found a candidate?"

The Headmaster and the Potions Master had approached the small group of students, effectively trapping them as they continued their conversation. "A possible candidate, Headmaster. Mister Sandburg is the first I've come across in my examinations who has shown even the most basic of the required talents."

"So you said last night." Dumbledore turned a kindly gaze toward Sandburg. "I wasn't surprised when Professor Snape told me of your results, Blair. In fact, I was hoping you would be the one to find the answer or prove to the key to helping young Ellison."

Sandburg looked as confused as Harry felt. "I really wish I knew what you were talking about, Professor Dumbledore," the Ravenclaw student responded to the Headmaster's statement and, thus, asked the very question which was bugging Harry.

Before he answered, Dumbledore waved his hand in a small gesture and a shimmering privacy dome sprang into existence around the group outside the infirmary. "Now that I can be fairly certain Jimmy won't hear us, let me explain what Professor Snape and I have discovered about the 'ailment' afflicting young Ellison."

Harry listened, awed as the Headmaster explained about the possibly of Jimmy having heightened senses, and what role such wizards had played in the past in their jobs as Hunters. How vital Hunters were, who had once led the fight against those witches and wizards who had forsaken the light and had willingly embraced the Dark Arts in all its many forms.

"Of course!" Hermione blurted out. "It was all there, Blair! In the book you found on the Children of the Hunt! Oh, why didn't I figure it out sooner?"

"Perhaps, Miss Granger, it was due to your Muggle-like tendency to discount anything which has not been proven in a scientific manner," Professor Snape injected into the conversation.

"That's not exactly fair, Professor," Blair quietly rebutted. "Hermione had no reason to presume it was possible that Ellison was a throwback to the ancient Aurors. She was concentrating on means magical and medical in our research while I concentrated on the more fantastical aspects."

Harry nodded before jumping into the discussion himself, "That's true, Professor. And from what I read of her notes, Hermione had found no proof that Hunters have existed in the wizarding world for generations. How was she to guess Jim might be one?" He watched as Snape's right eyebrow crept up his forehead to disappear behind a curtain of limp black hair.

"For your information, Potter, it has not been 'generations' since the last Hunter walked these islands."

"What? You mean there's been more recent ones?" For the first time since the group had gathered in the hall, Ron spoke up. "Then why couldn't Hermione or Blair find anything about them?"

Harry was pretty sure Ron hadn't noticed he had finally called the Ravenclaw student by his first name and he wasn't about to point it out to him. Not yet anyway.

Dumbledore smiled at Ron. "Because, Mister Weasley, the record of those more recent Hunters has been a closely guarded family secret. The family who was last graced with the presence of a Hunter in their midst feared for her safety and worked diligently to keep her talents hidden from those who would seek to use those skills against others."

Harry suddenly understood. "It's because of Voldemort, isn't it, sir?" Dumbledore nodded, while Ron, Hermione and even Blair displayed a typical reaction to the mere mention of the Dark Wizard's name. "If he managed to get his hands on a Hunter, it would make him even more powerful in some way, wouldn't it?"

"It is possible, Harry."

Harry looked up at Professor Snape as the Potions Master spoke. "If nothing else, Voldemort would seek to turn the Hunter's natural instincts to protect others around and corrupt them."

"I didn't know, when I made my foolish decision to join the Death Eaters, that Hunters had been born and raised in total secrecy ... until my youngest sister started displaying the talents when she turned 15." Snape didn't seem to notice that Blair had stepped closer to him, tentatively placing a hand on the Professor's right arm, but his voice steadied as he continued his story, "I had already been in Voldemort's service for two years when Celesta started her training and a chance encounter on my part, during a visit home, brought her special abilities to my attention."

"Severus, you do not need to continue..." Dumbledore's quiet concern washed over the group, easing some of the tension that had built up while Snape had disclosed his family's connection to the Hunters.

"No, Albus, I will only touch on the betrayal, not the training Celesta and my cousin Tyberrius went through until we are sure Ellison is a Hunter and his Attendant has been located." Snape's expression had both hardened and, in some strange way, softened, as he rebuffed Dumbledore's offer to stop. The Potion Master's gaze passed over Blair, and then the others before he nodded in a thanking gesture before lightly removing the Ravenclaw's hand from his arm.

"To this day I'm not sure how Voldemort came to suspect there was something special about my family but he did, and shortly after I had returned to his haunt, he sent the other Death Eaters to my home where they systematically tortured my parents, my older brother and others. When they returned to Voldemort's lair, they had my sister and cousin as prisoners, and Voldemort himself commanded me to find some long-lasting potion that would place them under his control far better than any Imperious Curse. I refused and paid for my act of defiance with my own blood and pain as he forced me to watch as he experimented with various substances on my sister, trying to break her will. Instead of breaking her, or Tyberrius, Voldemort only managed to drive them insane and then kill them."

"Ron, your verse ... it pertains to Jim and whomever his Attendant is going to be," Harry quietly observed.

"Verse, Harry?" Dumbledore's eyes bored into his and Harry gestured to Hermione, who was already digging her book bag for the scrap of scroll Ron had scribbled his automatic writing verse on in Advanced Divination class. Hermione handed the paper over to the Headmaster, who motioned Snape to his side as they both scanned over the words. "Most interesting, wouldn't you say, Severus?"

"Indeed. I may have to ... reassess my previous judgments about both the quack in the tower and Mister Weasley."

"Yes, indeed." Dumbledore handed the scrap to Hermione before clasping his hands together. "In the meantime, we have a test to perform. We need to find someway to place Jimmy into one of his fugue states, intentionally, so we can find out which among you might be a potential Attendant."

Snape pulled a small vial out of his pocket and handed it over to the Headmaster. "The substance in this should do the trick, Dumbledore. The only obstacle I see is getting Ellison to unknowingly ingest it."

"It won't harm him, will it?" Ron was staring at the dark glass vial with suspicion.

"No. It's merely a concoction of bitter tasting fruits and barks. It'll prove unpleasant, but not harmful."

"Then I have an idea..." Ron grinned as he explained his plan.

***

Jim looked up from the textbook he was reading to pass the time when he heard someone enter the medical ward. He was surprised to see Hermione, Harry and Ron; the last carrying a covered mug and wearing a huge 'cat-got-the-canary' grin on his face. "What are you three doing here at this time of day?"

"We managed to finish our assignment in Herbology early and asked for permission to come see you," Harry answered as they approached Jim's bed.

"Yeah, and I managed to nip down to the kitchens and nicked a mug of that nasty liquid you like," Ron piped up as he handed the mug to Jim. "Of course, it's not hard to get anything you want out of the house elves, they practically fall over each other to get things for us." Jim didn't miss the exasperated look that crossed Hermione's face and made a note to ask Harry about it later.

Jim handled the warm mug carefully as he shifted on the bed, and then lifted the cover to peer inside. Sure enough it looked like Ron had managed to locate a good amount of coffee. "Oh man! I haven't been able to convince Madam Pomfrey to let me have any of this since I got thrown in here!" Elated to have the heavenly brew in his hands, Jim took a cautious sip and, finding it not too hot to drink, took a bigger gulp and sighed in ecstasy, "Perfect. Not too much creamer and no sweetener. Thanks a lot, Ron."

"No problem. I'm just glad I convinced Dobby not to dump sugar in it."

Jim took another healthy swig, letting the liquid bliss loll around his tongue, savoring the heady flavor. "So, what did I miss in Herbology? Anything interesting?"

Hermione pulled a stool closer to his bed and sat down. "We learned other uses for catmint, valerian root and bennet. Really fascinating stuff, but I'm afraid since I handled the catmint more than anything else, I'm going to have problems out of Crookshanks tonight. Especially once he gets a whiff of my robes."

"Catmint? Uh, isn't that another name for catnip?" Jim asked before taking another swallow of his coffee.

"Surprised me too, Jimmy," Harry answered as he pulled another stool forward and sat down. "I thought the only use for the herb was to intoxicate cats ... but Professor Sprout gave us a whole list of other uses."

"Like what?"

"Like easing cramps," Ron spoke up, then blushed before trying to explain. "Mostly of the female variety, but its also supposed to help with sleeping."

Jim held up his free hand. "Stop. I do not need to hear about 'female cramps'."

"Yeah, well I didn't want to hear about that either, but it might come in handy when and if I get married." Harry shook his head. "Of course, I might find another use for it ... like slipping it into my Aunt's tea when she's being more unreasonable than normal."

"There's a thought." Jim sipped from the mug again, this time holding the liquid in his mouth a little longer before swallowing it. "There is something a little off about this ... or it's been so long since I had any that I'm imagining things."

"Dobby assured me it was fresh, Jim. In fact, I think he took it out of the carafe destined for the staff table."

"I trust you, Ron. It's just ... weird." He concentrated on the taste lingering on his tongue, trying to sort it out. It wasn't the normal bitterness left behind by coffee; it wasn't oily in its texture and had more of a subtle bite to it. The more he thought about it and tried to separate the oddness out from the known and beloved flavors, Jim thought he could taste wood and some sort of citrus-like fruit. He delved deeper into the tang left behind on his tongue, trying to identify whatever it was that shouldn't be in the coffee.

***

Harry watched as Jim finally started reacting to the three small drops of potion Professor Snape had placed in the coffee. The Potions Master hadn't been one-hundred percent sure Jim would react in the hoped for manner once he detected the odd flavor, but apparently the family records of previous Hunters' reactions to the Amargo Aromatio potion was dead on accurate.

Jim's mouth hung open just a bit as he drew the shallowest of breaths in, and his eyes took on the far away look Harry had seen right before he'd managed to knock Jim out of the state during Quidditch practice. It was like Jim was here, in the room, but not. As if he was a thousand miles away ... or locked up inside his own head.

"Jimmy? You okay?" Harry asked, but didn't touch the nearly comatose student, following Professor Snape's orders to the letter. Jim didn't respond.

"Blimey, it worked." Ron leaned forward and waved his hand in front of Jim's face. "He's gone. He's not aware that we're even here."

"It's spooky ... think of what would happen if this occurred during one of your games. Jim could get clobbered." Hermione reached out, as if to touch the stricken student, but Harry stopped her.

"No. We're not supposed to touch him, remember?" The door to the medical ward opened behind them and Harry turned around to see Professors Snape and Dumbledore enter with Sandburg tentatively following them. "I think it worked, Professor Snape."

He watched as Snape shooed Ron and Hermione from the side of Jim's bed and began to examine Jim without touching him. "Yes, he's fully into the fugue state." The Potions Master looked up at Dumbledore. "We can begin the tests, Headmaster."

"Very well. Severus, you chose who goes first."

Snape motioned to Harry. "You're first, Potter, seeing as you're standing right here. Gently lay your hand on his arm and talk to him in a normal tone of voice. See if you can get his attention and draw it away from the flavors he's trying to identify."

Harry followed the professor's instructions, but nothing seemed to happen. Stepping back, he found Ron moving forward and relinquished his spot next to Jim to his friend. Ron had about the same amount of luck and so did Hermione when she stepped forward. Then it was Sandburg's turn.

"Hey, Jim? You want to come back here? You're kinda freaking me out, not to mention what you're doing to your housemates. Even Professor Dumbledore's looking like he's about ready to call Madam Pomfrey in here with her potions ... do you want that?" Sandburg's voice was low and melodic; even Harry found himself soothed by the obvious concern in the Ravenclaw's voice. He watched as Blair started to slowly rub his hand up and down Jim's arm as he kept up the soothing chitchat. "You know, Jim, if you don't get back here I'm pretty sure Professor Snape will find some reason to deduct points from Gryffindor before he inflicts some of his more ... painful concoctions on you in hopes of getting you to wake up."

Harry didn't believe his eyes, but it looked like Blair had shot Snape an apologetic look before returning his attention to Jim ... who had shuddered and taken in a large, deep breath.

"Whoa! What the hell did you put in my coffee, Weasley?!" Jim surged toward Ron, a murderous glint in his eyes, before Sandburg reached out and restrained the slightly larger Beater.

"Jim! Wait up! It wasn't Ron! Calm down."

"Who the hell are you?" Harry watched as Jim took a closer look at Sandburg, clearly taking in the Ravenclaw colors and heraldic device on the dark robes and recognition dawned on him. "You're the Reserve Seeker for Ravenclaw ... Sandburg, right?"

"Yeah, nice to see you again, Ellison." Blair let go of Jim and sank down to sit on a stool. "And it wasn't Ron who screwed with your drink. It was Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Jim growled as he located the Potions Master, who was standing a few meters away from the center of action, his arms folded over his chest.

"Yes, Ellison, me."

"Why?"

"I think the answer to that is best done in private." Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and Harry noticed that Fawkes was no longer with the Headmaster. "Harry, Ron, Hermione ... I think it'd be best if you left for now. Stop by Madam Pomfrey's office and let her know we'll be in here a bit longer, if you would."

Harry wanted to protest, wanting to know what was going to happen to his new friend, but Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall any argument. "If Jimmy wishes to tell you, later, what we're about to discuss, that will be up to him. In the mean time, please try to understand and give myself and Professor Snape a chance to explain certain ... facts to young Ellison and Sandburg."

"Yes, Professor." Harry didn't want to agree, but arguing with the Headmaster wasn't wise and he reached out to pull on Ron's robes, "Come on, Ron. We'll come back later and talk with them, Hermione."

The others nodded and followed him out into the hallway, silently waving their goodbyes to Ellison and Sandburg. Once out in the hall, Hermione started to shake her head. "It's not going to be easy for them, even if Blair and Jim are allowed to stay here at Hogwarts."

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Ron asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Think of all the things that could cause Jim to have a fit, Ron. Blair's study schedule, or Jim's, will have to change to accommodate the need to be by each other's side."

"She's right, Ron. Not to mention they may have to go into hiding as a precaution, should You-Know-Who hear of them from someone." Harry hated not using Voldemort's name in a conversation; it felt like he was acknowledging the man's power, but he also didn't want to upset Ron who nearly jumped out of his skin any time the Dark Lord's name was even whispered around him.

"We'll adapt then. And help Jim and Blair as much as we can to adjust. Right?"

Harry just nodded in agreement, keeping his thoughts on the matter silent. Somehow, he didn't think Jim and Blair would be staying at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure why he felt this way. He glanced up at a clock on the wall outside the hospital wing, looking for a way out of the conversation. "Hey, look! If we hurry, we can still make it to Hagrid's class before we lose marks for being late." Thankfully, his friends took the hint and the three of them hurried through the halls of the school and then outside into a bright but chilly afternoon and down to the paddocks where Hagrid was still teaching the fifth years about rock trolls.

***

Jim's world was turned upside down as he sat and listened to Professor Snape, of all people, explain what was happening to him and what his future role in the fight against the dark arts might be. He also got to know Blair Sandburg a little more and found out that other than being a pretty good Seeker, the Ravenclaw dreamed of becoming a teacher of Muggle Studies, but now it looked as if that desire had pretty much been shattered. Not to mention his own aspiration of trying to become a professional Quidditch player.

"...So you see, Jimmy, it isn't safe for anyone to learn that there is, once again, a Hunter and Attendant in the Wizarding world." Dumbledore had been explaining some of the changes that were headed his and Blair's way and Jim was sure he wasn't going to like it. "Severus, can you think of anything we can do to protect them until their training is complete and they can take their place among the Aurors?" Yep, he wasn't going to like it.

"I have a cousin in the States who knows the training regime and is an instructor at one of the magical schools there," Snape replied as he sat back in the high backed chair he'd transfigured from one of the stools left behind. "It's just a question of getting in touch with Phaedra and then, after ascertaining if there's room for Ellison and Sandburg at the school, getting them out of the country without Voldemort learning of it."

"Yes, I'd heard he was watching for magical folk leaving the area ... we'll find a way." Dumbledore turned to face Jim and Sandburg. "I'll make arrangements for you two to be housed in a private room, somewhere between your two houses, and with your classes so neither of you are very far from the other until the two of you get to know each other better and Jimmy has more control over his Hunter skills."

"There's also certain training Mister Sandburg must go through. Nothing too difficult for someone with the talents he's already displayed."

Jim turned to look at Professor Snape, whose voice had changed from its normal sarcastic tone to something he thought he'd never hear from the former Death Eater - understanding compassion.

Blair's dark blue eyes widened a bit as he turned to look at Jim, a questioning expression on his face. "Ever get the impression that we're not allowed to have a say in anything that's going to affect us, Jim?"

He couldn't help it, the comment wasn't one he'd been expecting, and Jim laughed. "Yeah, I get that all the time, Blair." Jim was surprised to hear Dumbledore chuckle and even more stunned to hear Professor Snape chortle.

"I see Professor Snape and I have neglected to consider your desires," the Headmaster said once he regained control of his amusement. "Maybe, now that you both know what your future may hold, we should leave you to think about your options." Dumbledore stood up, Snape following his example, and he made one last statement before the two adults left the ward. "Take your time, talk it over between yourselves and when you've decided, ask Madam Pomfrey to call for me or Severus."

After the Professors had left, Jim turned to Blair and had started to discuss their options when a loud banging, thumping noise startled them both...

*~*~*~*

Jim jumped out of bed, rudely roused from his sleep by someone pounding on the door to the loft. Grumbling, he found his robe, pulled it on and stomped down the stairs to see who the hell had woke him up. Glancing at the glowing face of his watch as he descended, the growl growing in his throat grew more intense ... whoever it was pounding on his door at damn near midnight was going to get a verbal reaming. Even if the thudding had stopped, it had awakened him from a deep sleep and an interesting dream, which was already fading into oblivion.

Reaching the door, Jim unlocked it and flung it open so hard it nearly jumped off its hinges only to find Sandburg standing on the other side. Blair's mouth was full of letters and his arms full of his backpack, his laptop case and two boxes, which apparently were holding some kind of breakable if the Styrofoam peanuts spilling over the edges were any indicator. "Sandburg, why didn't you call before trying to kick the door down?" Jim relieved Blair of the boxes and caught the stack of mail in one hand as Sandburg spit the letters out.

"Thanks." Blair closed the door as he entered the apartment. "I tried, Jim. All I got was the answering machine or your cell's voicemail."

Placing the boxes on the coffee table, Jim looked back to where his roommate was locking the door up. "Yeah, sorry about that. I shut off the ringers when I went to bed." Picking through the mail, he discovered a postcard from his favorite booksellers confirming his pre-order of a certain novel. He slipped the card into his robes, hoping Blair hadn't sorted through the mail before he'd started chewing on it. "So, what held you up tonight? I thought you'd be home long before the witching hour."

"Oh, you know," Blair shrugged as he slipped his backpack off and placed it on the floor near the door into his room. "Little bit of this, little bit of that. Blue books, students dropping by asking for assistance on term papers."

"Oooh, exciting," Jim moved into the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove to heat up, knowing Blair would probably want one of his herbal teas before going to bed.

"Yeah, so exciting I fell asleep for an hour." He watched as Blair walked around the couch and picked up the mail. "By the way, I hope you didn't check the box when you got home, I ran into Phil on my way out and he was kind enough to hand it to me." He started flipping through the stack of letters until he pulled out a postcard. "Damn, I thought there was one of these for you but I can't find it now."

"One of what, Chief?"

"A confirmation for a pre-ordered book. I could have sworn I saw one for you..." Jim bit his lower lip as Blair sorted through the mail again. Surely he hadn't seen... "Anyway, I remember what it said. Your copy of the Order of the Phoenix will be in on June 21^st."

Busted. "Order of the what?" He tried to look and sound confused, hoping to throw Sandburg off the trail.

"You know ... Harry Potter, book five? The one you've been dying to read since you finished reading the Goblet of Fire back in 2000? To complete the collection of books you have hidden under your bed? That Order of the Phoenix?"

The grin that was gracing Sandburg's face wasn't, to Jim's surprise, teasing in nature but rather... "You read the Potter books too, don't you?"

"Oh yeah! They're almost like a micro-study of society and how children react to certain obstacles. Not to mention each book is really a mystery the reader has to solve along with the Gryffindor trio."

"Besides, they're fun to read," Jim admitted then gave Blair a friendly punch on the arm when he moved within range as he wandered into the kitchen to ready his tea. "You're never to tell anyone at the station that I read kids books, got that, Chief?"

Blair nodded. "Sure. But I think you'd find a number of our friends there are fans too. I caught Megan reading PoA just three weeks ago."

"I'm surprised you survived that. Connor's got a hell of a temper."

"She also didn't want to get twitted over reading a children's book. And I spotted a copy of the 'adult' version, from the UK no less, of GoF on Rafe's desk about a year ago." Blair pulled down a box of chamomile tea and, after placing a tea bag in a large mug and adding water, he leaned over and whispered in Jim's ear, "So, how do you think Harry's summer will have gone after watching Cedric die and Voldemort's return?"

~~~~END~~~~