Bits and Pieces
Number 004:
The Sickness
AU: For a moment, let's pretend that the Harry Potter universe took place ten years ahead of canon.
Somewhere in the United States of America, 1999
The man stood very stiffly in the alleyway, in a part of town that he would normally have never set foot in. It was quite windy, and despite sporting a great thinness, he stood easily enough. He hid a vaguely aristocratic face beneath a scarf and a hood, his fists stuffed deeply into his pockets. He was pacing.
Then he heard a very distinctive, and very familiar, "pop" just beneath the howling wind.
"What do you want, wizard?" he hissed, glaring at the new arrival. "Why did you call me out here, of all places?"
"Privacy," said the other man simply, wrapping his anachronistic robes around his faintly shivering form. Overall, he was quite outlandish looking with his robes and turban. He pulled out a stick – a wand, the man recalled – and with a flick the air grew warmer. "You are comfortable, I hope?"
"Answer my question. I won't put up with any bullshit from you people," the man snarled.
The wizard scowled.
"You don't know who I serve, so I'll forgive you're attitude… this time. My Lord has a proposition for you," he said. "He wishes to… work with you… Docker Brown."
"Doctor Brown," replied the man, rolling his eyes. "You wizards are hopeless. And why would your 'lord' wish to work with me? I thought you magic folk couldn't stand my kind."
"Indeed, normally my lord would not bother with a squib," replied the man. "He has taken an interest in you and your studies. I understand you've done quite well for yourself among the muggles." He sneered. Doctor Brown scowled.
"Forget it, I'm not interested," he said. "Don't contact me again." He turned to leave, but halted when the wizard whipped out his wand and pressed it into his chest.
"Watch your tongue, squib," said the man. "My lord will not be refused, and I will not tolerate your attitude."
"And I refuse to work with a condescending asshole who's stuck in the Dark Ages," retorted Doctor Brown. "Go back to your fairly land, wizard. I doubt you or your lord could comprehend my work."
"Let me speak to him, Quirrel," hissed a third voice. The man known as Quirrel paled, and Doctor Brown raised an eyebrow.
"Are you certain master? Are you strong enough?" asked Quirrel, lowering his wand. He wrung his hands.
"Yes, Quirrel," snarled the voice impatiently. "I will speak with him!"
Quirrel nodded, pocketed his wand, and raised his hands to his turban. Doctor Brown backed away slightly, brow furrowing. The wizard unwound the turban, the purple cloth slowly revealing an entirely bald head and strange, misshapen ears. He allowed the cloth to fall on his shoulders, and he turned. A second face, on the back of Quirrel's head, stared at Doctor Brown with crimson eyes.
"Hello, Doctor Brown. I am Lord Voldemort," said the face. Doctor Brown just stared, and tilted his head. "I see you have not heard of me. No matter, you will learn. I know much about you, though. You have degrees in molecular biology, biochemistry, and a Doctorate in Microbiology. You are also an expert on viruses, plasmids, and recombinant DNA and RNA. That's quite a résumé."
Doctor Brown gave a low whistle.
"And that's quite a vocabulary for a wizard," he replied. "Now, do you know what any of that means?"
"Enough to know you are a very talented and brilliant man, Doctor Brown," said Voldemort. "I believe science is but a more subtle sorcery, so I am not entirely ignorant of it and its… applications. In fact, I've done some experimentation as well in the realms of magic. We are not so different."
"Ah-huh…" replied Doctor Brown. "And what would the great Lord Voldemort want with my skills? I thought squibs and the like were beneath you and your kind."
"Normally, yes… but I am also aware of some of your other research," said Voldemort. He smiled as Brown's eyes widened and he stiffened. "I offer you a deal, Doctor Brown. If you work with me in a certain endeavor I've been working on for several years now, I will assist you in finding a cure."
Doctor Brown backed away, putting a hand to his mouth.
"A cure… yes…" he said, a grin forming on his face.
"Indeed, Doctor Brown. A cure. For you. For squibs."
"And you want my help in return, in your research? What is it?"
Voldemort laughed coldly.
"Tell me, Doctor… have you ever heard of an Inferius?"