Harry had tried countless times to send Ginny an apology, but Hedwig had never returned with a note back from her. Auror training had been the only thing that kept him from thinking about her. Bailey seemed to take immense pleasure in seeing Harry look so troubled, and he tried to get back at him by increasing his endurance exercises, saying that if he could defeat a powerful dark wizard, he could do more exercises than the others. Ron and Neville kept expressing their outrage whenever Bailey would do this, but Harry kept telling them to be quiet. Having them try to get him out of the extra exercises made him feel almost cowardly. For some reason, he was determined to show Bailey that he wasn't going to let harder exercises get the best of him. Bailey responded by making his exercises for Harry even harder still, and he would often be exhausted by his afternoon lessons with Aidan. The older wizard felt like a mentor to Harry, besides the Minister of Magic himself. He would often notice Harry's exhaustion, but when he would inquire what was wrong, Harry would shrug and say that it was nothing.

With each passing week, the potions, endurance, and combat sessions grew more difficult, but Harry was determined to give them his all, which clearly showed in his work. He was doing best in combat, of course, where he soared quickly through the ranks of trainees. Aidan had known of his skill in the Dark Arts, but he had wanted Harry to reveal it for himself.

It had been five months since the beginning of training. Harry could already feel a change within himself. He was still thin, but his muscles were beginning to form; his body was becoming more built.

Ginny and Harry were finally on speaking terms, but things didn't feel the same. Ron, being Ginny's brother, knew what was going on. He kept reassuring Harry that everything would eventually smooth out, but Harry didn't seem entirely convinced.

Harry awoke to the sound of his alarm, shut it off with a sigh, and heaved himself out of bed. He rubbed his eyes, feeling a slight throbbing in his temples. Ignoring the headache, he got dressed, and headed out the door, grabbing his wand on the way.

He met Ron and Neville at the small diner across from the Ministry, where they sat down and leafed through their menus.

"I'm in the mood for hot cakes," Neville commented, scanning the list of toppings available. "What about you, Harry?"

It took a moment for Harry to realize that he had been spoken to. "Huh?"

"Are you all right?" Ron asked, peering at him closely.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Neville asked. "You don't look fine."

"I dunno... I just have a headache, that's all."

"Maybe you just need something to eat," Ron offered as the waitress came to take their orders.

But Ron had been wrong. Food hadn't been any help to Harry. In fact, all it did was make him feel nauseated. He tried to drink some water before training was due to start, for he knew that Bailey would surely notice if he felt ill, and he would use it to his advantage. He had hoped that time would be his friend, but by the worried looks on Ron's and Neville's faces, his hopes had proved futile.

Everyone immediately began to start their exercises at once, and Harry was trying hard not to let himself fall behind. Half an hour into it, however, he realized that this would be much more complicated than he thought. Bailey had given him a look when he had taken a brief pause to steady himself, and he had glared at him. You can't let him see you stop, he kept repeating to himself. You can't let him see you slowing down. Keep moving, keep moving. But he couldn't keep moving. He felt extremely dizzy, and his sides were aching terribly.

He was nearly in the middle of the track when the ground suddenly seemed to pitch and roll. He collapsed to his knees, placing his hands on the grass to steady himself before he toppled over.

"Harry?" Ron called, a bit of a distance behind him. "Are you all right?"

Neville caught up to Ron, and he gestured to where their friend knelt.

"Uh oh," Neville murmured as Harry's face began to turn a sickly pale. "You don't think he'll..."

"I hope not, though I'm pretty sure he might."

"Ron!" Neville pointed furiously behind them. "He's coming! He'll see Harry."

Frowning, Ron and Neville hurried toward Harry, who was still kneeling on the ground. His face looked clammy, and sweat was running into his eyes, blurring his vision.

"POTTER!" came Bailey's yell from a distance. "Get up! There's no such thing as before-lunch breaks!"

But Harry couldn't. By the time his friends had reached him, he was breathing hard, his skin taking on an unpleasant greenish tint.

"Harry?" Ron's face was filled with worry as he touched his friend's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Ron... go," Harry managed to croak hoarsely. "Please..."

"No, Harry. You don't look well at all. Let me just..."

"Ron, please, I think I'm going to be sick."

Ron backed up to stand beside Neville just as Harry turned away and vomited violently. By then, several of the trainees had abandoned their laps and were crowding behind Neville and Ron.

Bailey strode up to them, his face lit with fury. "Just because one of you is too weak to handle your exercises does not mean that you all have an excuse to stop! Go on!"

With a glance toward Harry, the others dispersed, grumbling about Bailey. Neville and Ron, however, stayed put. Their expressions showed how worried they truly were. Harry had collapsed onto his side, exhausted, weak, and dizzy from being so sick. His stomach was still flipping and churning, and he knew that if he managed to get himself up, he would be sick again. Why the hell was this happening to him?

As if it couldn't possibly get any worse, he heard Bailey's barking voice. "POTTER, up! NOW! What did I tell you?"

"He's sick, you ninny!" Ron yelled, his face nearly the same shade as his hair.

"Do you want me to report your insolence, Weasley?" Bailey growled. "Don't forget that I"—he pointed to himself for effect—"am your superior! By disgracing me and calling me that, you-"

But Ron wasn't about to let Bailey tell him what he would become or get if he disgraced or insulted him, because he charged forward to Harry's side. His eyes were closed, and he lay completely motionless. "Harry?" Ron whispered, lightly tapping his friend's arm.

Harry's eyes flickered open to show that he was listening.

"Are you all right? You look, well..."

"I know," Harry whispered weakly. "I... I don't feel so well, Ron..."

This statement was what told Ron how bad the situation was. Harry would never say he felt horribly if he could help it. For him to say it now meant that he truly felt sick.

"Don't worry, Harry; I'll go get Aidan." Harry slumped back to the ground in response, his eyes closing. He really did believe that his friend had it under control.

"Where are you going, Weasley?" Bailey growled as Ron marched past him.

"To get someone who will actually help!" Ron retorted angrily, his face burning as he sprinted toward the building where the Aurors were.

Neville took Ron's place beside Harry, Bailey glowering furiously at them the entire time. Harry's face was clammy and pale, and when Neville put a hand to his forehead, he found it burning. He considered checking if Harry had fallen asleep, but as he did, he spotted three figures hurrying toward them. One was Ron—his flaming hair made it impossible to miss him. Neville recognized Aidan as one of the others, but the third he had only seen a few times before.

Bailey turned away from Neville, his face nearly purple with rage. A weak groan came from Harry.

"It's okay, Harry," Neville murmured. "Ron brought Aidan. He'll help you."

As if on cue, Aidan sprinted up to them. He knelt on Harry's other side, placing a hand on his forehead.

"Aidan," Bailey began, but he held up his free hand.

"Don't, Bailey. We'll speak about this later. Go."

Bailey marched away, rolling his eyes and glowering when Aidan wasn't looking.

Ron and Neville had to bite their lips to keep from smiling. Their glee at seeing Bailey be chastised like a child ebbed away, however, as they watched Aidan assess Harry, gently turning him onto his back.

"This young man needs rest," he finally said, looking up at the other man who had come with him. "David, how about we take him home?"

"Sounds like the best plan," the man called David agreed, nodding for emphasis.

Looking worried, Neville and Ron stepped aside to let the two men pick Harry up off the ground. Vaguely realizing what was going on, Harry used the last bit of strength he had to lift himself onto his elbows.

"Be careful, Harry," Aidan said calmly. "Go slowly. We'll support you on either side."

Neville and Ron stepped forward and offered their hands to Harry. He took their outstretched hands and staggered to his feet, his face slowly draining of the little color that remained.

"Slowly, slowly," Aidan kept repeating. Harry hated it, but he felt monumentally grateful for his friends' support. If it weren't for Ron and Neville, he thought he'd have collapsed again.

After taking a few deep breaths, he glanced at Aidan, then at the man on his other side, David. Like Neville, he had seen David only a few times before.

"Ready, Harry?" Aidan asked quietly. There was no mockery in his tone, as there clearly had been in Bailey's remark to the others a few moments earlier. He didn't sound overly worried, as if Harry was about to shatter at any moment. He sounded as concerned as anyone would be over someone they were friends with and cared about a lot, which was how Harry liked people to act around him. He wanted them to treat him like a normal person. Harry nodded, taking another deep breath.

"Yeah," he managed weakly. "I, I am."