Disclaimer: I don't own anything - instead I borrow it, chop it all up and marinade it in a cheesy sauce. Bake for 35 minutes, at gas mark 6, then leave to cool. Serving suggestion: With a pinch of salt.

AN: So sorry that this illness is so convenient and all - but that's life for you! Not that this fic, in anyway, alludes to real life scenarios. Honest.

AN2: Okay, I feel like editing my fic, so I am. The punctuation and syntax I'd used annoys me now, so I'm changing it.

AN3: Eagerly (well, one likes to hope) anticipated (ie. I promised it months ago, and still haven't got around to writing it) Chapter Five: I Smell Danger, will be written shortly. I promise. And this time I mean it.

You Can't Be The Hero-That's My Job!

By Henrietta

Chapter One: Symptoms and a Diagnosis

"Does Dean look as if he's choking to you?" asked Harry, the undisputed hero of the Harry Potter novels.

"Um...no...are you feeling all right, Harry?" Hermione was concerned, as this was the fourth person, that lunchtime, which Harry had suspected of choking.

But he never replied. "Oh, my God! He is!" cried Harry, as he vaulted over the table, sending food and cutlery flying. "Don't worry Dean! I'll save you!"

He dragged the boy - who actually wasn't choking - to his feet and proceeded to give him the Heimlich Manoeuvre.

"What the-?" was all a startled Dean could manage, before Harry tried to "save" him.

"Harry! Harry! He's not choking!" Hermione yelled across the table, but no avail.

It was a scene of much chaos, before the combined efforts of Ron and Seamus managed to release Dean from Harry's clutches.

"Get off me! I must save him!" Harry struggled against his hold, causing the two other boys minor injury.

"The only thing Dean needs saving from, is you. Nutter!" Seamus professed, his lip now bleeding.

Professor McGonagall arrived on the scene. "Take him to the Hospital Wing, boys; see if Madam Pomfrey knows what's wrong with him," she bent down to talk to Dean, who was now sat on a chair trying to breath properly again. "I think he's just winded you, Mr Thomas. Best not to follow him to the Hospital Wing while he's in that state though."

OOO

Ron and Seamus had to drag Harry - who was literally kicking and screaming - all the way to the Hospital Wing. Hermione followed at a safe distance.

"Get him on a bed," instructed the Matron, Madam Pomfrey. "I'll give him a calming draught."

When Harry was all calmed down, the Matron pulled the curtains around his bed closed, and began to medically examine him in a bid to determine his ailment.

It was a tense time for Ron and Hermione (Seamus had left to see if Dean was all right after his ordeal) as they paced the Hospital Wing, anxiously awaiting news.

Finally after half an hour, Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain. She looked grim.

"It's bad news I'm afraid. It appears that Harry has been infected with," she paused for dramatic effect. "Heroismitis."

"Good God! No!" Hermione clasped her hand to her mouth in shock.

"W-what is it?" asked Ron, fearing the worst.

"It's a dreadful illness; it makes the sufferer uncontrollably heroic. There is no known cure," Madam Pomfrey sniffed and sat down heavily. "But that's not the worst of it - oh, no. It is highly contagious."

"You mean - we could be infected too?" Ron asked shakily, the colour draining from his face.

"We all could. Especially Gryffindors, as they already possess large quantities of courage. My word! There'll surely be an epidemic," she stood, defiantly. "I must save all the students."

"Oh, dear! She's been infected!" Hermione backed away. "What shall we do?"

"Um...get out of here?" Ron suggested.

"Good plan," and with that they both made there way to the door. Neither of them looked back.