Chapter Sixteen

Mortality

Harry cast his Bubble-Head Charm and ensured his gloves were securely in place. He stood outside the door hiding Ginny and Ron, listening to the hum of the protective charms and working up the courage to go inside.

He was afraid of what he'd find, and the reception he'd receive. Neither of them had been all that happy with him the last time he'd seen them.

Vivian and a series of Healers had spent the majority of the previous afternoon with their infected duo. She'd reassured Hermione, George and Harry that Ron had, in fact, calmed down, and she hadn't had to use any restraints. Hermione had burst into tears, and once she'd finally calmed down, had manically scanned through medical books and continuously replenished anything he or George attempted to eat.

Harry supposed it was her way of coping. George had buried himself in work, getting busy on making more Extendable Ears for the other families who had ill loved ones. Harry had tried to help him, but wasn't certain if the things George had him doing were really necessary. He suspected George simply enjoyed bossing him around.

Harry took a deep breath and called on his Gryffindor courage. He slowly pushed open the door and peered inside. Ron's snores greeted him immediately. He was spread-eagle on his bed with his mouth open. He looked entirely too large for the single hospital-style bed. Ginny was awake and staring out the window at the gently falling rain. Soft rivulets streaked the glass, and the fog obscured most of the street below.

He inched across the room and tentatively sat on the edge of her bed, feeling like the uncertain teenager he'd once been. Ginny slowly turned her head, blinking at him owlishly. She didn't say anything, just gazed at him expectantly.

"Er… I always had trouble sleeping through that racket he makes, too," he said, nodding his head to indicate the snoring Ron.

Ginny looked over at her brother, her eyes widening as if just realizing he was there. She turned back to Harry, looking at his face intently. The hair on the back of Harry's neck prickled, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she hadn't recognized him when he'd first spoken.

"Harry! Oh, I've missed you. I haven't seen you in such a long time. How are you?" she asked, smiling brightly.

Harry's insides ached. He couldn't even take pleasure in the fact she didn't see him as Riddle since she apparently didn't recall ever having done so. He wasn't certain which was worse.

"Hey, Whisky," he said shakily. "I miss you, too."

Ginny frowned. "I told you not to call me that," she said, and the fact she remembered and sounded so much like herself lifted his spirits a bit.

"But I like when your eyes sparkle that way," he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his gloved one. "Have you and Ron been getting on?"

"Merlin, he was behaving like a git," she said, rolling her eyes. "He's much better company when he's asleep."

Harry grinned. "I'll be happy to tell him you said so."

"Oh, I'll tell him myself when he wakes up and starts grumbling. What did he do to land himself in hospital, anyway?" she asked.

Harry, who'd begun to relax, felt his insides twist as the apprehension and tension flooded back into his veins.

"Why are you here, Ginny?" he asked cautiously.

Ginny's brow furrowed. "I've been thinking about that. I assume I fell off my broom and hit my head, because everything is sort of fuzzy. Did I get the goal, at least?"

Harry swallowed heavily. "Er… it wasn't Quidditch, Ginny, and this isn't a hospital," Harry said, concerned what her reaction would be.

Was he even supposed to correct her and tell her the truth? He'd promised her once that he'd never keep things from her again. It had been a different situation and circumstances entirely, but a promise was a promise.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking around. To be fair, the room really did look like a hospital.

"We're at Grimmauld Place, and both you and Ron have been exposed to this new Spattergroit strain," he said calmly.

"Spattergroit? These are freckles, not spots, Harry," she said, exasperated.

"I know that. This new strain is effecting people's memory more than anything else," he said, his throat tight.

Ginny frowned, tilting her head to the side. She was silent for an extended period, lost in thought. Harry was about to call her name, when she said, "I had it first, and now Ron does, too?"

Harry had to swallow around the blooming lump in his throat. "That's right."

"So… I gave it to him, then?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

"No! We don't know that. We all went to that same match, we could've all contracted it at the same time," he said, squeezing her hand.

He didn't want her to have to feel guilty on top of everything else. He was well aware of the way the guilt could prey on your mind and weaken your body. Ginny didn't need that right now. She had to focus entirely on herself and her own well-being.

She looked over at Ron's sleeping figure. He continued to snore away, blissfully unaware. "How are George and Hermione?" she asked, blinking hard.

"They're all right. Worried, obviously, but I'm sure they'll be up to say hello once they awaken," he said, pointing to the Extendable Ear resting just inside the door.

Ginny nodded. "And you?" she asked, a single tear drop sliding slowly down her cheek.

Harry reached out and wiped it away. "I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. I'd trade places if I could, Ginny."

"Well, I wouldn't," she said fiercely. "I've had enough health scares for you to last a lifetime."

Harry shrugged. "At least you know how stubborn I am about pulling through. I'll always come back to you when it's an option."

"Yes, but you've become far too glib about thinking you'll always have the option. Don't argue with me about this. You know I'm always right, and I'm even more stubborn than you are," Ginny said, shaking off her melancholy to scold him. Her fierce expression and the tone of her voice reminded him inescapably of Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes, my love," he said dutifully, his lips twitching.

Her lips twitched in return, and he had a brief glimpse of his Ginny – the one who laughed easily and enjoyed teasing him overly much. The one who was always there and could make him feel better about almost anything. The one he loved above all else. The one he felt belonged in someone else's life, but was always so grateful she chose his. He couldn't lose her now, not after they'd come so far to find each other.

"Gwenog is probably going to toss me off the first team," she said gloomily. "Her patience for sick leave will only go so far."

"Er, Ginny, there is no Quidditch at the moment," Harry said warily, not wanting to have to tell her that half the team was ill.

"What are you on about? There's always Quidditch," she said, appalled. "Gwenog will most likely give that suck-up Ruth Getter my spot."

"No, I mean – the Quidditch season is on hold. Everything is in lock-down trying to get a handle on this sickness. No one will steal your spot. Even Gwenog Jones is in lockdown," Harry assured her.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'd like to see that. If they have managed to keep her out of the practice facility, she'll only be drawing up ridiculously complicated schemes and fretting about how behind we are. It'll be a nightmare."

Harry enjoyed hearing her talk Quidditch. It seemed so normal when nothing actually was.

"Once this is over, you'll still outfly everyone and put them all to shame," he said, reaching out to place a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, well, you've never been all that objective when it comes to our flying abilities, and the rest of the team knows it," she said, grinning. "Gwenog thinks you're a lovesick ponce."

"Does she, now? Obviously, she's not aware I was the youngest Seeker in a century," he said, grinning.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I like lovesick ponces with big heads."

"Very lucky," he whispered, squeezing her hand again.

"Ron? Ginny? Are either of you awake?" Hermione's voice came from outside the closed door.

Harry and Ginny both stared at each other, wide-eyed. "Are you supposed to be in here?" Ginny half-mouthed, half-whispered.

Harry shook his head. Hermione had been nagging him about being irresponsible in sneaking in, but he hadn't promised her he wouldn't do it again. He wondered if his blasé attitude might rub off on her now that Ron was locked inside, as well. Of course, at the moment Ron was doing nothing but snoring. Certainly, she could hear it from outside the door.

"Ginny?" Hermione said again, slightly louder.

"I have to answer her," Ginny said, in that same quiet whisper.

Harry shook his head violently. Perhaps if she didn't answer, Hermione would just assume they were both asleep. If she kept talking, Ron might recognize her voice and awaken, and he'd never be able to keep his mouth shut about Harry's presence.

"I'm awake, Hermione," Ginny said, in a remarkably good imitation of someone just waking up. He wondered if she'd used that voice on him in the past, and he'd been unaware. She could have a career onstage if she wanted.

"Oh, Ginny! How are you? I've been so worried. Harry's a wreck," Hermione said more loudly than before.

Ron shifted in his sleep.

Harry frowned, nettled. He wasn't a wreck. He was worried, naturally, but he wasn't any more upset than she or George was.

Apparently, Ginny knew what he was thinking, because her eyes sparkled merrily. "Please look after him for me, Hermione," she said, smiling wickedly. "Coddle him a bit if you think he needs it."

Harry couldn't even be exasperated because it was such a Ginny thing to do. Although he'd never admit it, he hoped it was his presence in the room with her that was bringing more of her back to herself.

"Of course, I will, just like I know you'll look after Ron. He was so angry when they told him yesterday. How is he?" Hermione asked.

"Snoring," Ginny said, casting a baleful glance at her brother.

"Oh. Well, that's not new," Hermione said, sounding relieved.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, stirring at last. He sat up blinking, staring dazedly around the room and at Harry perched on the edge of Ginny's bed wearing a Bubble-Head Charm. "Hey, Harry. Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"Harry? Are you in there?" Hermione asked angrily.

The game was up. "I'm here, Hermione," he said at last, feeling like an errant schoolboy.

"Have you had any breakfast?" Ron asked Ginny, pulling up his covers so they came completely untucked from the bottom of the bed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Harry, could I talk to you out here for a moment, please?" Hermione asked, her voice strained.

"Oooh, you're in trou-ble," Ginny giggled.

"I'm always in trouble," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Your medi-witch should be here momentarily, and I'm certain she'll bring up your breakfast, Ron. I'll see you tonight." He blew a kiss to Ginny, and raised his hand in farewell to Ron before opening the door to face an irate Hermione.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said pleasantly, shutting the door behind him. He caught a glimpse of Ginny peering around to catch sight of Hermione dressing him down, and he stuck his tongue out at her before the door latched. He tapped his wand against his head, eliminating the Bubble-Head Charm, and pulled off his gloves while Hermione glared.

"I can't believe you," she hissed. "After everything that happened the other night, you went back in there again."

"Yes, I did, and I plan on seeing them again tonight," he said, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

Hermione actually stomped her foot in frustration. "Harry, you're impossible. We were told that we're supposed to stay out of that room. They're trying to keep this from spreading any further, and you're purposefully ignoring their rules."

"That's right," Harry said.

Hermione's eyes goggled, and he knew his casual indifference was confusing her. He usually just lost his temper when she tried to lecture him.

"So, you can't go in there again. That was the last time," she insisted.

"No, I just told you I plan on returning after the medi-witch leaves for the night," he said.

"But there's nothing more you can do. Risking your own health isn't going to help them. It'll only make it worse if they end up infecting you," she said, half-scolding half-pleading.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not worried about that."

"Well, you should be," Hermione snapped. "Think about how you would feel if Ginny was sick, or hurt because of a case you were working on. I know you, and the guilt would eat you alive. This time, the danger came from a Quidditch match, not from one of your investigations. She's already feeling guilty, and if you get sick, it'll only make it worse."

"Hermione, when I first went in there this morning, Ginny thought she was in hospital from a flying accident. She didn't even remember there was a contagion," Harry said quietly.

"What?" Hermione asked, blinking.

Harry swallowed. "She asked me why Ron was in hospital, too."

Hermione's eyes filled, and she raised her hand to her throat. It didn't take a genius to realize she was getting worse. "Oh… oh, no."

Harry plowed on, relentless. Hermione needed to understand. "After explaining it all to her, and talking with her a bit, she seemed much more alert and back to herself. If I can help her remember, I'm going to. Even if I can just make her feel better and more herself for a little while, I'm going to do that."

"How was Ron?" Hermione asked, chewing her lip and looking torn.

"Hungry," Harry said, shrugging. It was so typically Ron, and he didn't know why it stung.

One of the fat teardrops that had been hovering around Hermione's eyes finally fell and dribbled down her check. "Harry, I- I- I want to help him, too. I want Ron to know I'm there for him, too."

Harry reckoned this was really what Hermione was angry about. Her nature was to be a rule-follower, but Ron and his influence had long ago corrupted her. He also knew she'd do whatever it took to help them. She always had. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you, too," he said.

Hermione's eyes strayed to the closed door. "Do you think I should?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't answer that for you. It needs to be your decision. Do you think it'll help Ron?"

Her face softened into a tender expression that made Harry slightly uncomfortable. "He's always happy to see me."

"There's your answer then," he said softly.

Hermione suddenly reached out and hugged him fiercely, nearly knocking him over and causing him to stumble away from the wall. "I love you, Harry," she said.

"Love you, too," he muttered, disentangling himself from her embrace. "But you better hurry up if you're going in. The medi-witch will be here momentarily, and she'll certainly throw you out, too, you rule-breaking rebel."

"Shut it," Hermione said, grinning and casting her own Bubble-Head charm. She pulled out a pair of dragon-hide gloves that she just happened to have in her pocket and put them on.

/* /* /* /*

Later that afternoon, Harry joined George in the room he'd converted into a workshop in order to help him with some of his orders. Hermione sat at a desk in one corner, her wand moving like a maestro conducting a symphony as she wordlessly cast charms over sets of Extendable Ears. George sat on the other side of the room, testing the completed sets.

Several bottles of Butterbeer sat on a table near the door. Harry grabbed one as he moved inside.

"Oi, I left those there for the help," George said without looking up.

Harry ignored him as he popped the lid. "So, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Hermione and I are working on filling the large Ministry order, but I'm getting back-logged on various owl-orders. Take a bunch, and once they're filled, store them in the room across the landing," George said, nodding at a stack of orders next to the Butterbeers.

"If you keep this up, you'll turn this entire house into your workshop," Harry said, amused that George kept expanding into empty rooms.

"The real hitch is storing them outside the contamination zone before they can be sent out. My products are quarantined just like us," George grumbled. "Of course, quarantine is most likely the reason the Daydream Charms are selling so well…"

"What did Ron have to say? Was he in a better mood than yesterday?" Harry asked, ignoring George and looking over toward Hermione.

She never stopped casting her spells, but a broad grin crossed her face. "He was quite cheerful, actually. He still insists there's nothing wrong with him. Honestly, if it wasn't for the diagnostic scan, I would've been hard-pressed to argue since he seemed so unruffled this morning."

"Ron is never unruffled, Hermione. You'd think you'd have caught onto that by now," George said, chuckling.

Harry shook his head. "You'd have just found something else to argue about. I've never met two people who enjoy arguing more than you two."

"We all have our methods of foreplay," Hermione said lightly, stunning both Harry and George, who gaped at her. George actually dropped the Extendable Ears he was holding.

"You did not just say that out loud," Harry said, flabbergasted. This quarantine was messing with all of them. He really wished Ron was here to have seen it. Harry could just picture the look on his face.

George, however, recovered more quickly than Harry. "Hermione, you sly dog, you," he said, grinning and raising his hand for a high-five.

Hermione's face was burning red, but she looked pleased as she continued casting her spells.

"Since both of you are ignoring the rules, do you think I should go up and visit with my kin, too? I'm not accustomed to being the responsible one, and I don't like it at all," George mused.

"No!" both Harry and Hermione chorused at once. George looked up at them, startled.

"George, you need to be the one to keep your parents informed of what's happening in here. They'll feel better seeing you every day," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I don't think they could handle you going into the Infirmary, too, mate," Harry told him honestly.

The Weasleys' reaction to Ron testing positive had gone as expected. Mrs. Weasley had burst into tears and wanted to come through the Floo immediately. A stunned Mr. Weasley didn't even really try to hold her back. It wasn't until Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived at The Burrow – he'd been alerted to Ron's status – and threatened to close the Floo connection between the two houses entirely that she stopped, collapsing in a puddle on the floor of the kitchen. Arthur had made George promise to contact them every day with an update. The anxiety on Mrs. Weasley's face every time they spoke was hard to bear.

Harry hadn't dared tell them about Ginny's deterioration, but he knew he'd have to say something soon.

"I suppose," George said, unconvinced. "Don't ever tell Percy I was the only rule-follower, though."

"We promise your secret is safe with us," Hermione said, her lips twitching.

The three continued working, an uneasy silence filling the room as they completed their orders.

"Oh, Andromeda called this morning," George said at last.

Harry spun around, his heart pounding. Not Teddy. "Is everyone all right?" he choked.

"Yeah, they're fine. She just said to tell you Teddy wanted to send you this," he said, tossing Harry something small.

He caught it automatically, opening his hand to reveal a miniature wooden train. It was blue with little Snitches painted on the roof. Harry rolled the tiny toy wheels along his hand slowly. His throat was very painful. He suddenly felt a desperate need to see his godson. Would Teddy even remember him by the time this was all over? Did he feel abandoned? Harry remembered how being abandoned felt, and he'd never wanted his godson to feel that kind of pain. It had never occurred to him that he, Harry, would be the one Teddy felt abandoned by.

Some of his thoughts must've shown on his face because George said, uncharacteristically gentle, "He misses you, too, mate."

"Is that a train?" Hermione asked. "He does love to play with those, and you'll get to play with him again very soon."

"If he'll still want to after I've been gone so long," Harry said, keeping his eyes lowered and voicing the worry that had been nagging at him.

"Well, he might be put out at first, but he'll come around. Crookshanks was furious with me after we came back from the Horcrux hunt, remember?" Hermione said.

"He's not a cat, Hermione," Harry said, disgruntled.

"Of course, he's not, but it's the same principal. He's young enough that he won't even remember all of this once it's over."

If Hermione was trying to make him feel better, it wasn't working. Her words only succeeded in making him feel worse. What if it 'being over' meant they'd all succumbed to it? Would Teddy ever remember him, or would he be just a vague, distant idea that other people told him about – like his parents? Or Harry's parents had been to him.

Harry had to swallow hard, his vision blurring.

"Did Andromeda say anything else? Has there been anything more in the paper?" Hermione asked George, her eyes still on Harry. Hermione was convinced Vivian was censoring the news she allowed inside Grimmauld Place. Harry hadn't seen any evidence of that, however. Hermione's first instinct was always to distrust Vivian.

He continued working on the owl-orders, but his heart wasn't really in it. His mind was over a hundred miles away on a little boy with turquoise hair playing with his trains and soldiers all alone and wondering where his godfather was, and why he wasn't there playing with him.

/* /* /* /*

It was several nights later when Harry was waiting for the medi-witch to leave so he could say goodnight to Ginny and Ron. He skipped down the stairs toward the kitchen, hoping to grab a snack, when he heard voices coming from inside. He paused on the stairs before pushing open the door open. He could recognize Vivian speaking with Hermione. He hadn't realized she was there. He wasn't alarmed by it, however, as he reckoned she would've called both him and George to a meeting if anything more had happened.

"I can appreciate your frustration, Miss Granger, but we're doing all we can. Testing takes an inordinate amount of time because the consequences could be catastrophic if we get it wrong," Vivian said.

"They're catastrophic now," Hermione said waspishly.

"Yes, they are, particularly for those who are suffering, but would it change that if Ron or Ginny were given a supposed cure, only to have it kill them after restoring their memory? Or if it had unintended consequences that could affect their health or magic long-term? We need to be certain. You're a clever witch, I know you can understand this," Vivian said.

Hermione didn't respond, and Harry leaned closer to the door, straining to hear her response. He knew Hermione understood this intellectually. It was just harder to accept rationally when someone you loved was lying in a bed deteriorating each successive day.

"How was Ronald this morning?" Vivian asked. "I know you've been going in there. The Healers have informed me that neither you nor Mr. Potter places a lot of stock in the rules I've put in place."

"His long-term memory seems all right, but he sometimes repeats himself. His short-term memory is more affected, and his motor functions have continued to decrease. He needs the pillow to keep his head straight when he's sitting, and his temper is even more volatile than it usually is," Hermione said quietly.

Harry knew that hardest part of all of this for Ron was that he was aware of what was happening to him. He needed help getting into a sitting position, yet he resented anyone trying to give him that aid. While Ginny's mind was far more unstable than Ron's, she, at least, didn't really seem aware of what was happening to her.

"The difference is not uncommon. The disease is attacking the brain, and since different parts of the brain affect different areas of the body and mind, it explains the wide variety of symptoms amongst the infected," Vivian said.

"I'm worried about Ginny. It took her a really long time to get my name this morning. I could tell she knew who I was, but she couldn't get the name," Hermione said, and by the tone of her voice, Harry knew she was crying.

He clamped his eyes shut. He'd seen the deterioration in Ginny, too. Every day, it was harder to bring her back, and even when she did gain some recognition, her eyes would frequently go vacant, as if she was somewhere else, or seeing something that wasn't there. Sometimes, Harry had to restrain himself from physically shaking her. He hated seeing her slip away from him like this.

"Yes, the Healers have documented the same thing. While I refuse to tell Mr. Potter that his flagrant disobedience is acceptable, Miss Weasley does seem to respond to him best. He's able to bring her back quicker than anyone else, and he seems to be handling the strain all right," Vivian said grudgingly.

"Don't mistake stoic for unfeeling," Hermione snapped. "He feels more deeply than you'll ever know, he just internalizes it."

"Believe it or not, I am aware of that, Miss Granger. I am not working against you, you know," Vivian said, and Harry wondered if she'd finally had enough of Hermione's endless suspicion.

He thought it was time to make them aware of his presence. He pushed the kitchen door open to find the two of them seated at the kitchen island, sharing a pot of tea.

"Hello, Vivian," he said without preamble. "What brings you here so late?" He didn't feel the need to feign surprise that she was there. He'd learned long ago growing up with the Dursleys that listening at doors to conversations before entering a room was a clever way not to get clouted on the head unexpectedly. At times, it was the only way he'd ever received any useful information.

"I was just explaining to Miss Granger that we're in a testing phase on our modified Mandrake draught. I wanted to check in with the medi-witch here to see if there had been any new developments, but both Weasleys appear to be resting comfortably," Vivian replied.

Harry sat with them and poured himself a cup of tea. He glanced over at Hermione, who indeed did have red-rimmed eyes. "Where's George?" he asked.

"He said he was going to use the fireplace in the sitting room to call Angelina, and he didn't want to be disturbed," she said, sounding as if she had a bad head cold. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like good blackmail material."

"I doubt it. I think the only one who'd be embarrassed if you walked in on something would be you, quite honestly – and that includes Angelina."

"Has George's girlfriend been using the Floo?" Vivian asked, alarmed.

Harry waved her off. "Just for calls, she hasn't come through. She and George can be rather… creative," he said, clearing his throat.

"Despite that laissez-faire attitude George likes to present, he'd never do anything to put Angelina in harm's way," Hermione said. "Besides, aren't you monitoring the Floo to ensure no one comes through?"

"Contrary to what you may believe, we thought that with three Ministry employees living here – all of whom are on the contagion task force – that you should be trusted," Vivian said, smiling sardonically.

"So… are there other homes with Floo restrictions, then?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Unfortunately, there were a few who refused to follow the travel restrictions. They only ended up putting other people at risk, so their Floo connections were placed under call-only limitations," Vivian answered.

"Didn't follow… meaning people left using their Floo or had others visit them during their quarantine?" Harry asked. He couldn't help his thoughts straying to which of Ginny's teammates might have cracked.

"Both," Vivian said. "Some of them are still refusing to believe there is an epidemic and are threatening lawsuits once they gain their freedom."

"But… we've had a contagion in the not too-distant past, so certainly they know it's possible," Hermione said, her brow furrowed.

"Dragon Pox seems long ago to many, and people forget. There have been a few wars in between, and the illness took mostly the elderly. Younger people now don't remember the fear that pox generated," Vivian said, sighing.

"D'you think that will happen this time? Once this is all over, I mean?" Harry asked curiously.

Vivian's eyes shifted, and she took a long sip of her tea. "I don't know. I suppose it depends on the significance and who remembers certain losses," she said, pursing her lips.

Harry had seen her do this before when she was stalling for time.

"What does that mean? Is there something significant about this we don't know?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, I daresay the entire thing is significant. We've never had an illness like this affecting both Muggle and magical populations, and the fact its origins were manipulated by Death Eaters is fairly noteworthy in itself," Vivian said, frowning.

Harry relaxed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said.

"We've kept all the notes retrieved from St. Mungo's. Once we've managed to contain this, we want to ensure there isn't anything else out there that was unleashed, but we simply aren't aware of it yet," Vivian said, her expression solemn.

"You said 'certain losses'," Hermione said suddenly, pinning Vivian with her stare. "Has there been a loss recently that we should know about?"

Vivian wet her lips. "You know I'm not supposed to share anyone's medical information, but I do feel it's relevant to all of you," she said slowly.

"What's relevant?" Harry asked, his breath catching.

"Whose medical information?" Hermione asked at the same time.

Vivian took a deep breath. "Theresa Grant passed away in the early hours this morning," she said grimly.

Author's Note: Well, there you go, an illness of the brain will affect different people in different ways. Please take a moment to hit reply and share your thoughts.

Much thanks and appreciation to my beta team, Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their time, patience and being my sounding board for various thoughts and ideas.

Yesterday, I completed the big Scooby-Doo reveal chapter, and it felt SO good! It's off to beta now, but I still have a few fluffy chapters to write. I figure I owe all the h/g shippers some happiness after all the angst and drama (still to come!). I'm going to have surgery done on my thumb on Monday, so I'll be wearing a splint for a while. I'm a good 10 chapters ahead of you, so I hope not to have any delay in the posting schedule.