To Mikol- Yeah, but this whole next chapter is about Duo. So there. I'm working my hardest to get this up in a timely fashion, so please don't be upset if it takes a bit. I really need to make you a reward for all the reviewing you do.

To KamiKaze no Kage- Isn't he, though? I think he's cute when he acts all tough like that.

To TanyaPotter- Thank you. I haven't decided if there should be pairings yet. I mean, they're still just kids and all, and I don't think Heero, Wufei, and Trowa are up for that kind of thing just yet. But if you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to consider them.

To Omnicat- Thank you, but I don't think even fleshing it out can turn this fic into a masterpiece.


"Oi! You, Four-Eyes and fanclub!" Someone with an American accent called from behind Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Heero. "Don't make me chase you, you little brats!"

"I think she might be talking to us," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder.

"Probably," Harry agreed, stopping and turning around as well. "Can we help you?"

"I'm lookin' for an old geezer goes by Dumbledore," The redheaded woman with no manners said gruffly. "You pip-squeaks know where he might be?"

"He's in the infirmary," Heero told her.

"And where is that?"

"Go straight that way for about twenty feet," Heero said, pointing off towards the lake. "Then turn around, come back, and ask nicely. I might tell you then."

"Look, kiddo, I'm not in the mood for this." The woman informed him. "I just flew on a Muggle airplane nonstop from Seattle to do what basically amounts to battlefield surgery because this Dumbledore ass let dementors near a school. I have been up for nearly 48 hours, and I haven't had coffee in almost as long, so I wouldn't hesitate to throw your uppity ass into a wall and force the directions out of you."

"Does that mean you're here to help Duo?" Ron asked before Heero chose to demonstrate that he was equally capable of throwing people into walls.

"If that's Maxwell's first name, then yes. Now somebody take me to the infirmary so I can talk to Dumbledore and figure out what the damage is, will you?"


And so it was that a kyree, four students, and a mysterious American redhead marched into the infirmary, interrupting Professor Dumbledore, who was making his good-byes to Madame Pomfrey.

"Ah, Miss Elfbane, how good of you to join us," Dumbledore said, bowing slightly to the redheaded woman. "I trust the dementors caused you no trouble?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they did." Miss Elfbane snapped. "I had to use a Patronus on one of the damned things in order to get it to leave me alone. Now, where's my patient?"

"In his own private room, Miss Elfbane," Madame Pomfrey said. "If you'd follow me…"

"Yes, yes, let's get a move on. The kid's not gonna Heal just 'cause I'm here flapping my lips. You-" She added, turning suddenly to Heero, Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You four scram. I don't need shrimps fucking me up right now."


"Well!" Hermione exclaimed once they'd been shooed out into the hall. "Not even so much as a 'thank you'!"

"What should we do now?" Ron asked.

"Potter goes back to the common room," Heero said decisively. "Granger, take Weasley with you to the library. I want to know everything you can find out about this Elfbane woman. I don't like unknowns in these situations."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, managing a passable salute, and dragged a huffy Hermione with him towards the library.

"I'll meet you in the common room, Potter," Heero said. "I have to go check on something; it won't take more than an hour or two."

"See you there, then," Harry said, heading for the common room.


There were no classes that day, so Heero had to work a little to find his targets.

He'd been able to identify four of the voices he'd heard when the dementors had interrupted the Quidditch match. One was his; another was that of a girl who'd haunted his dreams for years. Another of the voices he'd pinned down as Chang Wufei's, and another he was positive belonged to Trowa Barton.

He found Chang first; the boy seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time at the groundskeeper's cottage, where Heero checked first.

"Chang," Heero said, calling Wufei's attention away from his flying lizard. "Who are Meiran and Nataku?"

"How do you know those names?" Wufei demanded, and his lizard hissed threateningly.

"You told them to me," Heero said, not the least intimidated or impressed. "During the Quidditch match, after the dementors appeared, I heard you say both those names. Who are they?"

"They were the same person," Wufei said shortly. The lizard landed in his cupped hands, and he drew it against his chest, stroking its head. "My wife. She's been dead for nearly three years now. A stupid, senseless death caused by a stupid, senseless war,"

"I'm sorry to call up unpleasant memories." Heero said sincerely. "I needed to know. Will you come with me to collect Barton? I need to talk with him as well."


"He looks like shit." Miss Elfbane commented, looking down at the prone form of Duo Maxwell. "Exactly how long did you wait before you decided to contact a mindHealer?"

Madam Pomfrey puffed up indignantly at the implication that she hadn't done the utmost for her patient, but the redhead ignored her.

"Dementors around a school, too. You British people are completely off your rockers." She muttered, placing the tips of her fingers on Duo's forehead. "Okay, Dumbledore, out you go. You, too, Pomfrey; I need complete solitude to deal with this."


"Why can't they have a card catalogue, like in Muggle libraries?" Ron asked plaintively. "This is going to take forever!"

"Only if you keep whining like that," Hermione countered. "Ah, they mention a Rebbekha Elfbane here. She's a member of AHA – the American Healers' Association. Where's that book on American magical societies?"

Ron handed her the appropriate book and picked up another at random. It was entitled Mending the Mind: Healing and Other Wandless Magic. There was a chance he could find a clue in there.


Trowa was sitting in a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest with Songwind when Heero and Wufei found him. It had been a while since he and Songwind had had some peace, and he resented the interruption.

"Barton, come down here," Heero said. "I don't feel like climbing trees today, and I need to talk to you."

"Can't it wait?" Trowa asked.

"No," Heero said, a note of strong authority in his voice. "Get down here,"

"I'll be right back, Songwind," Trowa said with a sigh. And he would be, no matter how important Heero thought his business was. He dropped gracefully to the ground, landing on his feet in front of Heero. "Well?"

"What did you mean when you said 'I'll take his name,'? Who's name did you take, and why?"


"I've found her!" Ron exclaimed, then blushed sheepishly under the glare of a nearby group of Ravenclaws.

"So have I," Hermione said in a hushed voice more appropriate for a library. "It says here she's a mindHealer, and she's well-known in America for pulling minds back from insanity."

"Same here," Ron cleared his throat self-consciously and read "'Rebbekha Elfbane is best known for her work with those driven insane by magical means. A prime example of her work is the Heinridge family of Canada, who were tortured into insanity by dark wizards in April of 1982. After only three years of Healing and therapy, the entire family is fully recovered and lead normal, happy lives.' D'you think she can help Duo?"

"I'm positive she can," Quatre Winner said, stepping out of the stacks with an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, but I couldn't help but overhear. I assure you, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, if anyone can save Duo's mind at this point, it would be Miss Rebbekha Elfbane. If you only knew the miracles I've seen her work…" The blond trailed off thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Forgive me; I was wondering if perhaps you knew where Heero Yuy is?"


Duo floated in utter, perfect darkness. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. His thoughts came slowly, when they came at all, and they were centered around the fact that he was safe here, where no one and nothing could touch him.

Are you happy here, though? A voice asked in the back of his mind, a muted reddish-purple voice much clearer than his own.

I'm not hurting. He answered, wondering idly who the voice belonged to.

You're running away, though. The voice accused gently. You're running away from the pain instead of fighting it.

Some pain can't be fought. He informed the voice. There's too much pain to fight, and most of it's not mine.

Oh? The voice sounded both amused and irritated, its color shifting away from purple and towards true red. Which ones aren't yours, then?

He showed her, slowly at first, but then with more confidence. He showed her the alien memories, the trauma and sorrow and pain that had been forced into his mind.

And felt those memories disappear.

The pain is so much less now, She told him softly. Do you think you can fight it now?

Maybe…


It was all Rebbekha could do to keep from collapsing once she withdrew from Maxwell's mind. This kind of concentrated speedHealing didn't take long, but it was exhausting, especially with such a stubborn patient.

Already, Maxwell's color was improving, and there was more warmth in his hand than when she'd first taken it in hers. His thoughts were there, whispering at the edges of her mind, no longer hidden behind layers of pain and fear. Given some rest and another session, she'd have him awake and complaining about the infirmary food.

The redhead stood, and nearly lost her balance for a moment in a sudden fit of lightheadedness. She swayed, reaching for the wall to steady herself, while the room spun around her.

"I need some fucking food…" She moaned as the dizzy spell passed.


It was just about lunchtime when Quatre, Ron, and Hermione met Heero, Wufei, Trowa, and Songwind outside the Gryffindor common room, so they collected Harry and struck out for the Great Hall.

"The way I see it, those of us with certain types of wandless magic were more vulnerable to the dementors," Quatre explained. "For example, I'm an empath, so I was naturally more open to the emotions in the stadium, and Mr. Yuy is a telepath, which makes his vulnerability obvious."

"Hn," Heero agreed, sounding slightly put out. "And Maxwell's a Sender, too,"

"Is he?" Quatre asked, surprised. "If he is, he was a late bloomer. His current comatose state is probably a result of not have a very firm grasp on his gift. Professor Dumbledore was certainly wise to send for Miss Elfbane."

"I've been meaning to ask, Quatre," Hermione began, "how is it that you know-"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my little lame prince," Rebbekha Elfbane said wearily from the foot of the stairs. "I see you've regained the use of your legs."

Quatre, dignified, polite, mature Quatre, all but flew down the stairs and into the mindHealer's arms.

"Did you miss me, princeling?" Rebbekha asked softly, bearing only physical resemblance to the incredibly rude and gruff woman who'd nearly gotten into a fight with Heero. "How are your wounds?"

"Still healing, but much better," Quatre said, giving the redhead a smile that nearly outshone the sun. "Thank you, again, for everything you did for me,"

"Oh, princeling, if you thank me one more time, I shall become quite vexed with you. Who are your friends?"

By then, the rest of the group had reached the floor, and were standing by in quiet bafflement.

"I'm given to understand you've already met Heero Yuy, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger," Quatre told her. "These gentlemen are Chang Wufei and Trowa Barton."

"Nice to meet you, kids." She said, then suddenly swayed violently. "I need to eat something, or I'm gonna faint. Where do they stuff you guys?"

"That would be the Great Hall," Hermione said. "We're headed there ourselves; would you like to accompany us?"


Okay, I'm stopping now. Yawn. I really need to finish up some of my stories before I start any more…