Chapter Two

A Different Sort of Pox

It took me only ten minutes to locate said dunderhead, who was dancing around like a lunatic trying to avoid the dragon's fireballs. Charlie Weasley yelped upon seeing me overhead, waving his arms about, yelling, "Over here!"

Really? I would never have guessed.

Unfortunately, his screaming out the obvious brought me to the dragon's attention. I made a note to thank him later, and then take a resounding fifty points from Gryffindor at the first available opportunity when I returned to Hogwarts, as recompense for their alumni's big mouth.

Now, I have never been much of a flyer, something which Potter's father use to delight in reminding me at least twenty times a day. However, upon seeing that I would soon be fried to a crisp, I decided that now would be a good a time as any to learn how to execute... "evasive maneuvers." I dove out of the way, pulled out of a spin which I honestly did not mean to put myself into, and swung around behind the dragon. From this angle I could identify the dragon as a Norwegian Ridgeback.

At least it wasn't a Horntail.

I immediately began running through appropriate curses and jinxes to throw at the dragon. Some of my own, not so nice curses, came to mind. Some of which would undoubtedly either never penetrate the dragon's hide, or either go completely the other way and damage the dragon irrevocably. Neither would do. Conjunctivitis was my next thought, but that would involve having to get Weasley out of the way, lest he be trampled instead of fried and shredded. And it would also involve me coming around to the front of the Ridgeback and getting very close. Unfortunately, it was also my best option to keep both Weasley and the dragon only minimally injured.

Damn it to hell.

I pulled the handle of the Cleansweep around and zoomed back toward Weasley again. I used a nonverbal Lumos and waved my wand around to gain the dragon's attention. Hopefully Weasley would figure out what I was up to, and would get himself out of the way as soon as the Ridgeback started coming after me. The Ridgeback seemed unable to make up it's mind about who to go after, so I sped it along by sending a slicing hex at it. The dragon's hide prevented the hex from doing any sort of damage, but it was enough for the Ridgeback to understand that I had just made to hurt it. Which made the Ridgeback very angry. It narrowed it's eyes and blew a long stream of fire out at me, which gave Weasley an opportunity to run and find shelter.

I now had the Ridgeback's full attention, and it followed me to a tee as I dodged about. It was at this moment that I realized how much I abhor flying and Quidditch. How those idiots could do this for hours on end is beyond me. The dragon roared angrily as I flew out of it's range. Before it could come to it's senses and realize that it had wings, I did a quick spin and rushed at it. This change of tactics startled the Ridgeback, and it was it's momentary lapse that gave me the chance that I needed.

"Conjunctivitis!" I yelled, pointing my wand directly at the Ridgeback's eyes. It howled in pain and fury, shaking it's snouted head and clawing at the ground.

I'll admit that for a moment I was stunned that it actually worked. But then I was soaring toward where I saw Weasley run to hide. I landed behind some boulders near a small overhang. Charlie Weasley was huddled on the ground, very white and very dirty. His hair was slightly singed and he had a burn on his arm.

"Be very thankful you are no longer my student, Weasley!" I snarled at him, picking him up off the ground. "What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?"

Weasley said nothing and only leaned against me, emitting a low groan. I realized that all was not entirely right. Perhaps Weasley had gotten inured after all?

The dragon's roars were getting more frequent, and I quickly straddled the Cleansweep again, pulling Weasley on in front of me so I could hang on to both him and the handle. I took off, flying both as gently and as fast as I could back to camp. I landed at the medic tent, which was already half full with patients who had been affected by the Doxy Flu, as well as various dragon related injuries.

"Snape!" the head medic exclaimed in a thick Irish accent, as I dragged Weasley into the tent and laid him on one of the beds. "What the devil-"

"He went off by himself. I only just managed to escape from the dragon with both of our lives," I explained. "He is injured. See to him."

And with that I stalked out of the tent.

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The next morning I went to check on the second oldest Weasley only to find his condition worsened. This made me very irritated. The boy only had a few burns which could have been taken care of in less than an hour, let alone overnight. I was about to call for the medic when Weasley began to cough up something thick and red.

Blood.

Something was very, very wrong.

Weasley began to shake uncontrollably as if having some sort of epileptic fit. I ran for the head medic, who had been introduced to me as Ian Andrews the day I arrived. He managed to dose Weasley with a calming potion, which sent him back to sleep. I demanded to know what the hell was wrong with the boy.

Andrews shook his head sadly. "As if we don' have enough goin' on. Dragon Pox on top o' e'rything else."

"Dragon Pox," I repeated. "I may be mistaken, but wasn't my purpose for coming to Dragomirna and sacrificing my summer vacation to create the vaccine for Dragon Pox?"

"Aye, for the dragons," Andrews nodded. "All the handlers 'ere have already been inoculated against it. There must be a new strain... somethin' that our vaccines canna' take care of." He looked at Weasley with concern. "Charlie 'ere is only the second case. It's only jus' been brought to our attention, Professor. We thought we'd all be safe since nothin's popped up."

"It seems that you were wrong," I sneered. "Where is the other patient affected?"

Andrews shifted uncomfortably. "Well, see, we didn't know what it was at the time..."

I glared at him and he shrank back under my gaze. "Where?"

The look on Andrews' face told me all I needed to know.

"You don't have the capabilities here to care for those infected?" I asked, glancing at Weasley. I noticed that his skin had started getting a greenish tinge, a telltale sign of Dragon Pox.

Andrews shook his head. "We're a small reserve, Professor. We do what we can."

"Was Charlie Weasley in contact with the other infected person?"

Andrews actually gulped. "He was Charlie's partner."

I resisted the urge to throttle the man.

"We thought it was jus' another case o' Doxy Flu!" Andrews explained. "Charlie's had the vaccination. We thought he was fine. Kozlov went on last night, while you an' Charlie were out takin' care o' that Ridgeback. It must take a while to take effect. I dunno, to be honest, Professor. This is all very new."

"What other symptoms did Kozlov show?" I asked.

Andrews thought for a moment. "He had been tired a lot. Feverish, cold sweats... the same as any other illness."

"Weasley exhibited none of these symptoms. Was Kozlov placed in a quarantine when you discovered what the sickness was?"

"O' course! But... he was 'ere, in the medic tent first. And Charlie bein' injured and e'rything, plus, havin' contact with 'em so much, bein' his partner... It made him more susceptible is all I'm sayin'."

I looked around the medic tent. Weasley had not been placed in quarantine, and there was a half a dozen other patients in the tent with him. "Why has Weasley not been moved into the quarantine area?"

Andrews remained silent. "We've sent for help," was all he said.

I took a menacing step forward. "You will either tell me what is going on, or you will be in a patients bed yourself, do I make myself clear, Mr. Andrews?"

Andrews nodded. "The whole place is quarantined now, Professor. E'ryone tha's been in contact with anyone 'ere will have to be examined. You say that Charlie didn't have the same symptoms as Kozlov?"

"No. He did not. He did look increasingly tired, but I'll admit that I dismissed it as simply stress," I said. "He looks as though he's had the Pox for weeks now, however. His encounter with the dragon and the increased stress that it created must have lowered his immune system somehow." I began pacing. "You said you've sent for help?"

"Yes, sir," Andrews answered, sadly. "But... they won't arrive in enough time to help Charlie, I fear."

That, of course, would not do.

I began wondering about my own safety. I had not begun feeling or showing any symptoms of any kind. However, Charlie Weasley's condition demonstrated that this virus acted in a very peculiar manner, and that one could not rule themselves out of infection. Dragomirna obviously did not have the necessary people, capabilities, or knowledge to care for those infected with his new strain of Dragon Pox. Yes, someone with all three of the aforementioned things would be arriving to take care of the problem, but Andrews already said that Weasley probably would not last to partake of their abilities. Dragomirna was in a very isolated location, and it would take days, if not weeks, for the extra healers to get here.

Charlie Weasley needed serious medical attention, and he needed it now.

There was only one course to be taken, and the thought of it made me want to be ill myself. Albus was going to pay for this.

I took a deep breath and said, firmly, "Weasley will need to be moved to St. Mungo's."

Andrews' eyes widened considerably. "Mungo's? Are you insane? Tha's all the way back in London!"

"Yes, I am well aware of that, Mr. Andrews."

"It'll take you jus' as long to get him back to London then if you waited here for help! Charlie canna Apparate in his condition-"

"Yes, Andrews, I am well aware of that also," I said, irritably. "And, no; it will not take as long, because I assume that more than one healer is coming to Dragomirna to see to the problem. Therefore, due to their number, they will have to travel carefully and slowly. Charlie Weasley and I are only two."

"The reserve is under quarantine, Professor. I'm afraid I canna let you leave."

I glared. "I see. So you are going try and stop me, then?"

Andrews said nothing.

"That's what I thought," I sneered.

After a moment, Andrews spoke again. "The healers can Apparate," he pointed out. "You'll have to travel on foot."

"Unless you let me borrow your broom." Before Andrews had a chance to state the obvious once again, I added, "I will ensure his safety, and we will only travel by broom when absolutely necessary. If his condition worsens, I will have to abandon the broom all together. Trust me, Andrews, I understand implicitly." There was also the possibility of a Portkey, but that may also be out of the question if Weasley wouldn't be able to stand the strain of Side-Long Apparition. I did not mention this possibility to Andrews, lest he have some kind of heart attack.

"This is the best and only course of action," I continued. "You do understand that Charlie Weasley has unspokenly been placed in my care. Albus Dumbledore, as well as his family, is counting on me to ensure his safety." Damn. His family would probably have to be notified. I resolved to worry about that later. "I will leave you the remaining Doxy Flu and Dragon Pox vaccinations that I have created, as well as the recipe should you need more. But I must get Weasley the medical attention that he requires. What you do with the rest of your people that become infected is your problem. Weasley is mine."

Andrews looked for a moment like he was going to debate the rationality of this decision yet again, but instead looked down at the now slightly green Charlie Weasley, who moaned painfully in his sleep.

"Do what ye can, then," he nodded.

"I always do," I answered, and swept out of the tent to make the proper arrangements with two thoughts in mind:

One... Charlie Weasley must survive the journey. Every precaution must be taken.

Two... I was going to kill Albus Dumbledore.