Reviewers! E.A.V.: Ron is dense, but that's why I love him. He's such a great source of comedy. And when he actually does something smart, it's a nice shock. Angel, you asked a very good question about the invisibility cloak. I'm thinking that Harry just had bad luck that one time trying to sneak in. Poor bastard probably wandered up to the only screaming book in the entire section and pulled it from the shelf. In my universe, "chipmunk" is not and never will be a pet name. LOL Shiba: Yes, I'm evil. I'm sorry! Forgive me? (bats eyes ) ImAPoet: LOL I know I said Friday, but it's not my fault. The site was down on April 1st. Glad you're enjoying! Here's more.

CHAPTER FIVE: Fizz

"Just don't tell me he's doing Billywig," Ron said quietly. He looked a bit dazed, like he was still reeling from the sheer volume of the stuff he'd found in the dormitory. "That doesn't make sense."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, Australian wizards get those things to sting them so they get hysterically happy and float," she replied just as quietly. The less noise they made in the library, the better.

"Exactly. If Harry was a 'stinger,' he'd be keeping the things alive to get the full effect, and he'd floating all over the place, wouldn't he? So don't even bother accusing him of that."

Hermione blinked at him. "He's not doing Billywig straight, Ron. He'd be found out in about four minutes and thrown out of school. No, I'm afraid he's doing something far more dangerous."

"What?"

Hermione licked her lips. Ron was liable to explode at her pronouncement, but the evidence trail was too much to ignore.

"Harry's been brewing a potion called Vivus Vitae," she said slowly. "But you and I both know it by its other name." She paused and bit her lip.

"And that other name would be?" Ron asked.

"Fizz."

Ron's jaw dropped. "WHAT!" he hissed. "That's madness! That's a complete fantasy! Idiots only tell that story to other idiots so they can watch them eff up and poison themselves!"

"Of course they eff up and poison themselves," Hermione snarled. "But they usually don't have the recipe. Harry, on the other hand, does. Prosekwami Harry Potter led me straight to the book Harry found. And then I said Legiskwat over it. The first two pages on Vivus Vitae were read and magically copied, edging on a month ago. Now, knowing Harry, he probably committed the damn potion instructions to memory and destroyed the evidence, but my spells have never fooled me before. That's what he's making, Ron."

"Load of dung," Ron fired back. "If Harry were making Fizz he'd be dead by now! I've heard the stories. Hell, you've heard the stories!"

"Harry's heard the stories too," Hermione pointed out. "But instead of putting him off, it gave him hope. He went looking for his answer, Ron, and he thought he found it in this book! He's been making Fizz and using it for nearly three weeks now!"

Ron shook his head.

"Add up the evidence," Hermione continued gently. "Look at it logically. Dried Billywig, Opal sugar, and Firewhisky are the major ingredients in the potion. You found them hidden in your dormitory. And we both know that Harry has been less than excited about life since June."

Ron stared disgustedly at the ground. Hermione could practically see the gears turning in his head as he miserably felt the evidence click into place.

The rumor had been circulating around Hogwarts for years, so Harry was bound to have heard it at some point. It was the sort of thing that most schoolchildren listened to with rapt attention and didn't repeat if there were any adults nearby.

According to the stories, powdered dried Billywig stings, sugar, and Firewhisky, when combined in a precise 1-2-3 ratio with other ingredients and stirred counter-clockwise for three minutes, produced "Fizz," a sweet, thick, and highly illegal draught that could lift flagging spirits for days at a time. It had the power to kick those teenage blues and supposedly banished nightmares, too. And since no one at school was able to procure dried Billywig stings or Firewhisky (with one notable exception), it had become the stuff of gossip and legend.

But every story had its counter-story, and the Fizz counter-story invariably ended in a fatality. The brewer (the person's sex and name were constantly changing) screwed up the recipe, drank it, and died of poisoning.

"I don't believe this," Ron said. "I mean, how can he even make it? Harry's terrible at Potions, he says so all the time!"

"You've got some nerve saying Harry's terrible. You didn't even get into NEWT level!" said Hermione. "Harry's pretty good, he just gets nervous when Snape's around, that's all. And I can imagine that with the proper ingredients and enough motivation, you'd be surprised at what Harry can do with a cauldron."

Ron shook his head. "This makes no bloody sense."

Hermione ignored his profanity. "It makes all the sense in the world. Remember first week, and you were being your usual insensitive self and told Harry to stop looking so glum?"

"Hey!"

She ignored him. "And remember when those packages arrived for him second week and he said they were jumpers?"

Ron nodded blankly, still not cottoning on. Hermione huffed in frustration.

"He was lying, Ron! Harry ordered Billywig, Firewhiskey and Opal sugar, probably under an assumed name or three, and since then he's been casting Multiplicory to ensure a good supply, because Fizz doesn't keep at all. It has to be brewed nearly every day. He probably got carried away with the spell, though. That's why you found so much rubbish in your dorm."

Ron huffed angrily. Hermione pressed on.

"Third week, Monday. Harry smiled like a loon in Charms and he danced with me in the halls! Remember?"

"No, no, no," Ron mumbled, putting his face in his hands. "My best friend is not an addict. I'm not blind, Hermione, I would have seen something."

"You have seen something," she said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You said it yourself, two weeks ago, now. 'Stop looking so bloody cheerful, Harry.'"

Ron stared at his lap resolutely and crossed his arms. Hermione pulled her hand away and watched him, his whole lean frame tense with anger and worry, waiting for him to come around. It seemed an eternity before he finally let his shoulders slump and he looked up at her.

"What the eff are we going to do?" he asked abruptly. He also looked very angry and helpless, which did not please Hermione at all. "Harry's … Harry's …" He couldn't finish.

"Self-medicating," Hermione said sadly. "His godfather is dead and he hasn't grieved, Ron, not at all."

"The Order said to let him alone about it!" Ron said.

"I know what the Order said," Hermione replied evenly. "And I let him alone, too. But Ron, he needed us, and instead of trying to talk to him about it, we just did what we were told and left him adrift. He probably tore himself up about it all summer."

She tried to catch his eye, looking for some hint of affirmation, but her red-headed friend had suddenly found a bit of floor very interesting.

"We both messed up, Ron," she finished. "And now we have to make things right."

"How?" Ron asked, finally meeting her eyes. "We don't even know what's wrong! I mean, what if … what if we're off on this whole thing? Maybe Fizz isn't really bad at all."

Hermione recognized the panic behind his faulty reasoning. She let it slide. The sooner she made Ron see how serious this was, the better.

"Let me show you something," she said.

She drew Ron's attention to the MagiCopies between them, specifically to the first two pages. Ron cricked his neck to look at them right-side-up. The top of the first page was titled "VIVUS VITAE," followed by a long column of ingredients and instructions. On the second page the title read, "BENEFITS."

"These two pages are what Harry read and copied," Hermione explained.

"All right," said Ron. "What's your point?"

Hermione then motioned to the other three pages about this draught. At the top of the first of these it said in small, ornate letters, "SIDE EFFECTS / RISKS."

"This," Hermione said, pointing, "Is what Harry didn't read."

She leaned sat up straight and crossed her arms.

"Well, I haven't read this either," said Ron. "What is it?"

"Oh, just a few warnings," Hermione said sarcastically. "Considerable brewing skill required, do not attempt without supervision, overdose and/or brewing mistakes may cause death, blah blah blah. You know," she spat, "The usual."

Ron suddenly looked a bit sick. "G-Go on," he said.

"Fizz is a Type-D Cerrus potion. These sorts of potions work by closing things off, and in the case of Fizz, it shuts off emotions. See, it starts by clamping down on the really painful stuff: guilt, anger, frustration. But it's very addictive, and it's so sneaky that someone is likely to abuse it and not even know, which just lets it work even faster."

"And?" asked Ron.

"And," Hermione continued, "The more of it gets into you, the more emotions it locks away. Eventually it moves on to emotions that aren't on an 'even keel,' like ecstatic joy, and then it moves all the way down to love and hope."

Ron scratched his head. Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears and went on.

"You see, the drinker starts out ridiculously happy, because he's free from negative emotions. Understand?"

Ron nodded.

"Right, that was Harry three weeks ago. Then, the potion gets rid of any tremendously positive emotions too, and the drinker 'evens out.' Yes?"

Ron nodded again.

"That was Harry more recently. And then …" she licked her lips. "And then the poisoning begins."

"What?"

"Well, the potion in and of itself isn't poisonous, but as more of it enters the body, it leaves behind deposits in the bloodstream that become poisonous very fast."

"W-What happens next?" Ron asked.

"Tremors," Hermione said. "They start out small and get more and more violent. There was a little anecdote in here somewhere. Some anonymous patient called it 'the shakes.' But the horrible thing is that people mistake their shakes as a need for Fizz, instead of a sign that something's wrong."

Ron ran his fingers through his hair, following her logic. "So they overdose even faster," he said.

"But that's not the worst of it," Hermione went on. "If the drinker overdoses on Fizz and hasn't succumbed to the toxins, then this rubbish pulls off its last trick: it destroys the emotional centers in the brain, leaving the person unable to feel anything at all."

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Merlin's balls," Ron said finally. "And Harry's been on this for three weeks?"

"Nearly," said Hermione. "Have you heard of anyone living longer than that on this stuff?"

"The longest I ever heard was two," Ron replied. His face was ashen and his gaze dropped to the floor. "How could I have been so blind?"

"You weren't alone," Hermione said, putting a hand on his knee. "And I'm really scared, Ron. Harry is poisoning himself, and he doesn't even realize it. At dinner tonight, he looked like he'd very nearly reached his limit."

"Why, did you see him shaking?"

"No. He's probably hiding that from everyone. But Ron, he looked so …"

"Glum, I know."

"Glum?" Hermione shot at him. "Ron, he looked dead. Have you seen his eyes? There's no life left in them anymore. If he keeps this up, he'll either drop dead of blood poisoning or be left with permanent brain damage."

Hermione hated to be the one to air the truth, and Ron hated to hear it. There was a very unpleasant silence for a few moments as Ron stared angrily at the ground and Hermione bit her lip and gathered her nerve. She had a shaky plan, but she'd need his help with it the whole way.

"We have to help him," she said softly.

TBC