Snape had never been put in such a position before, but he knew what
he had to do. Even if the girl was American, a Gryffindor, and a friend of
Harry Potter, he couldn't deny her what she needed most. Medical attention.
The child felt like she was on fire!
He finally made it to the infirmary, and dropped her into the bed.
Madame Pomfrey had her back to the both of them, scribbling something on a piece of parchment. "Who's there?"
"Severus."
"Severus?" She said with a hint of confusion in her voice. "What are you doing here?" She still hadn't turned around.
"A student of mine collapsed in class. I had to carry her up here. This is urgent."
Madame Pomfrey dropped the quill and pad as she turned around.
Meanwhile, in the dungeon, students were beginning to understand what had just happened. Hermione rushed over as Harry helped Ron up. Ron was rubbing his head where it had hit the stone floor rather hard.
"Oooh." He muttered, still rubbing. "What happened?"
Hermione rushed to Ron, grabbed his head and started peering at it.
"What are you, my mother?" Ron asked, trying to twist out of Hermione's grip.
"You could have a concussion!" Hermione said, struggling to hold tight to Ron.
"Yeah, and you could have a brain missing!" Ron started smacking at Hermione's hands to get them off of his head. Finally she let go.
"I'm just...worried." She said, quietly.
Harry, who had been watching this all with a worried expression on his face, decided that the best thing to do would be to quell their fears. "I'm sure she'll be ok."
"NO." Hermione and Ron said at the same time, then stared at each other. Both tried to speak, and finally Ron pointed to Hermione.
"Ladies first?"
"Well," Hermione began. "Rachel was really upset about that whole Seamus thing...maybe," Hermione swallowed "maybe she decided to take it into her own hands."
This took a moment to sink in, then:
"Why do you think Rachel would kill herself?!" Ron's face was getting red.
"Well, not kill herself perhaps, but make a statement maybe, get some attention."
"Attention? Since when have you known people like Rachel, OUR FRIEND, to get attention by trying to kill themselves?"
"Ron." Harry tried to touch him, but Ron moved away. "Ron, relax."
"I was just trying to be logical." Hermione seemed close to tears.
"That's not logic!"
"I would like to see if your idea is any better." Hermione snapped, then moved away from Ron.
"Rachel, before she..erm...fainted was looking at me like she didn't know me. I think that." Ron closed his eyes, trying to think. "Perhaps she had a bad reaction to a Confundus charm?"
"But who would confuddle her?" Harry asked.
All eyes turned to Lavender.
"That's ridiculous!" Hermione sputtered. "She probably just got sick."
"You were singing that tune a minute ago." Ron said, glaring at her.
"Stop." Seamus was standing there. No one had noticed him walk over. Hermione and Ron had been too busy arguing, and Harry, watching them argue. "Right now you shouldn't be fighting. You should–"
"You're one to tell us what we should be doing!" Ron turned to Seamus. "After you and Lavender publicly humiliated her."
"Listen." Harry said. "For all we know, Rachel was just tired, or a little sick. There is nothing to worry about."
Just then, Snape walked back in, and they started up class again, people refusing to look at the spot where Rachel once stood.
Days passed, and none of the students were allowed to see Rachel. She hadn't woken up. They were told she was contagious. Draco, after hearing that, went around frightening first years by telling them they would be infected with the American "disease". Hermione began stock piling homework for Rachel, to do when she woke up. She kept it in a folder that she carried around with her. Lavender was convinced it was her fault Rachel was sick and went around sobbing to anyone who would listen. Ron actually sat through her little speech once, and now she was following him. They were using the reserve keeper for practices now, Seamus Finnigan, who was terribly quiet now. Classes went on, and Harry and Ron were strangely reminded of their second year, when students were being frozen. At least then there was a cure.
A Hufflepuff third year collapsed in their herbology class. Then two days later a Ravenclaw passed out. Now people were really worried. Madame Pomfrey had been sending nervous letters out, and she thought she knew what was going on.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Madame Pomfrey asked as the headmaster surveyed the infirmary. "I don't think you should be here, don't want you getting sick, but I have to talk to you." Madame Pomfrey picked a letter off a table, then ushered Dumbledore outside.
Loosening the mask she had started wearing around the delirious fever- ridden patients to try and keep the germs from spreading, she handed the letter to Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore, I have been talking to some colleagues of mine, and I have some terrible news. Have you heard about the French Minister?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes suddenly dimmed. "Yes, Jacques was a dear friend of mine. It's a shame he grew so sick. No one knew–" He suddenly looked up, and shook his head. "I should have seen it sooner. They–the students–they have it too, don't they."
Madame Pomfrey nodded slowly. "At least that is what I think. I was talking to Dr. Rebecca Jacobson, who was taking care of Mr. Lunaire."
"Jacques."
"Yes, Jacques Lunaire. She said that the potions embassador–"
"Her husband."
"Yes, David Jacobson, was unable to craft any potions to help him, and that she tried her best, and couldn't find anything, and the symptoms match up. We've been corresponding."
"Do they know that their daughter is sick?"
Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "I couldn't tell them that. Besides, Rebecca is so busy trying to keep it from spreading, because, she says this, in her own words." Madame Pomfrey scanned the letter. "'It is of upmost importance we don't let this get out, because we have on our hands a spark set off in a brown field. We have to make sure it doesn't catch.' And, Professor Dumbledore, I think that we have a small blaze starting already."
"Dumbledore nodded. "If anyone else falls ill, we will have to put Hogwarts under quarantine. There is no other way." And as he walked slowly down the hall, Dumbledore was muttering to himself. "He suffered so much before he died. Poor, lonely, suffering Jacques."
A/N: Like? Hate? Tell me!
He finally made it to the infirmary, and dropped her into the bed.
Madame Pomfrey had her back to the both of them, scribbling something on a piece of parchment. "Who's there?"
"Severus."
"Severus?" She said with a hint of confusion in her voice. "What are you doing here?" She still hadn't turned around.
"A student of mine collapsed in class. I had to carry her up here. This is urgent."
Madame Pomfrey dropped the quill and pad as she turned around.
Meanwhile, in the dungeon, students were beginning to understand what had just happened. Hermione rushed over as Harry helped Ron up. Ron was rubbing his head where it had hit the stone floor rather hard.
"Oooh." He muttered, still rubbing. "What happened?"
Hermione rushed to Ron, grabbed his head and started peering at it.
"What are you, my mother?" Ron asked, trying to twist out of Hermione's grip.
"You could have a concussion!" Hermione said, struggling to hold tight to Ron.
"Yeah, and you could have a brain missing!" Ron started smacking at Hermione's hands to get them off of his head. Finally she let go.
"I'm just...worried." She said, quietly.
Harry, who had been watching this all with a worried expression on his face, decided that the best thing to do would be to quell their fears. "I'm sure she'll be ok."
"NO." Hermione and Ron said at the same time, then stared at each other. Both tried to speak, and finally Ron pointed to Hermione.
"Ladies first?"
"Well," Hermione began. "Rachel was really upset about that whole Seamus thing...maybe," Hermione swallowed "maybe she decided to take it into her own hands."
This took a moment to sink in, then:
"Why do you think Rachel would kill herself?!" Ron's face was getting red.
"Well, not kill herself perhaps, but make a statement maybe, get some attention."
"Attention? Since when have you known people like Rachel, OUR FRIEND, to get attention by trying to kill themselves?"
"Ron." Harry tried to touch him, but Ron moved away. "Ron, relax."
"I was just trying to be logical." Hermione seemed close to tears.
"That's not logic!"
"I would like to see if your idea is any better." Hermione snapped, then moved away from Ron.
"Rachel, before she..erm...fainted was looking at me like she didn't know me. I think that." Ron closed his eyes, trying to think. "Perhaps she had a bad reaction to a Confundus charm?"
"But who would confuddle her?" Harry asked.
All eyes turned to Lavender.
"That's ridiculous!" Hermione sputtered. "She probably just got sick."
"You were singing that tune a minute ago." Ron said, glaring at her.
"Stop." Seamus was standing there. No one had noticed him walk over. Hermione and Ron had been too busy arguing, and Harry, watching them argue. "Right now you shouldn't be fighting. You should–"
"You're one to tell us what we should be doing!" Ron turned to Seamus. "After you and Lavender publicly humiliated her."
"Listen." Harry said. "For all we know, Rachel was just tired, or a little sick. There is nothing to worry about."
Just then, Snape walked back in, and they started up class again, people refusing to look at the spot where Rachel once stood.
Days passed, and none of the students were allowed to see Rachel. She hadn't woken up. They were told she was contagious. Draco, after hearing that, went around frightening first years by telling them they would be infected with the American "disease". Hermione began stock piling homework for Rachel, to do when she woke up. She kept it in a folder that she carried around with her. Lavender was convinced it was her fault Rachel was sick and went around sobbing to anyone who would listen. Ron actually sat through her little speech once, and now she was following him. They were using the reserve keeper for practices now, Seamus Finnigan, who was terribly quiet now. Classes went on, and Harry and Ron were strangely reminded of their second year, when students were being frozen. At least then there was a cure.
A Hufflepuff third year collapsed in their herbology class. Then two days later a Ravenclaw passed out. Now people were really worried. Madame Pomfrey had been sending nervous letters out, and she thought she knew what was going on.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Madame Pomfrey asked as the headmaster surveyed the infirmary. "I don't think you should be here, don't want you getting sick, but I have to talk to you." Madame Pomfrey picked a letter off a table, then ushered Dumbledore outside.
Loosening the mask she had started wearing around the delirious fever- ridden patients to try and keep the germs from spreading, she handed the letter to Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore, I have been talking to some colleagues of mine, and I have some terrible news. Have you heard about the French Minister?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes suddenly dimmed. "Yes, Jacques was a dear friend of mine. It's a shame he grew so sick. No one knew–" He suddenly looked up, and shook his head. "I should have seen it sooner. They–the students–they have it too, don't they."
Madame Pomfrey nodded slowly. "At least that is what I think. I was talking to Dr. Rebecca Jacobson, who was taking care of Mr. Lunaire."
"Jacques."
"Yes, Jacques Lunaire. She said that the potions embassador–"
"Her husband."
"Yes, David Jacobson, was unable to craft any potions to help him, and that she tried her best, and couldn't find anything, and the symptoms match up. We've been corresponding."
"Do they know that their daughter is sick?"
Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "I couldn't tell them that. Besides, Rebecca is so busy trying to keep it from spreading, because, she says this, in her own words." Madame Pomfrey scanned the letter. "'It is of upmost importance we don't let this get out, because we have on our hands a spark set off in a brown field. We have to make sure it doesn't catch.' And, Professor Dumbledore, I think that we have a small blaze starting already."
"Dumbledore nodded. "If anyone else falls ill, we will have to put Hogwarts under quarantine. There is no other way." And as he walked slowly down the hall, Dumbledore was muttering to himself. "He suffered so much before he died. Poor, lonely, suffering Jacques."
A/N: Like? Hate? Tell me!
