After the Easter break, Callidus had time and space enough to sort out his priorities, which had given him two very specific goals in mind: to check on Longbottom in the infirmary, and to speak to Caiside. Of course, this was easier said than done, seeing as he still had to study for his classes, while finding time to make sense of what the magic sight potion was trying to tell him. But Callidus wasn't without tools; during his stay at Malfoy Manor, he had of course availed himself to their extensive library, and had learned the spider ears spell that Harry had mentioned. Such a spell seemed incredibly useful, the more he considered it, and there was no reason not to.

Knowing that it would be easier to visit the infirmary than to run all over Hogwarts looking for Caiside, he headed to the hospital wing first.

Madam Pomfrey's expression was filled with consternation when she spotted him. "You've just returned from your break, Mr Prince, and you've already managed to hurt yourself?"

Callidus felt his cheeks becoming warm. It was true that he had been to the infirmary a far more often than usual, and much of his visits were based in deception, but it was for a good cause, and that was enough to steel his resolve. "No, I know you've said that we aren't permitted but -"

He could see understanding, and then sympathy pass across Madam Pomfrey's face. In fact, as he took note of her face, he couldn't help but notice how weary she appeared, and how deep the lines bracketing her mouth were. Of course, Callidus wasn't so foolish as to hope that the Orange Madness would be miraculously cured during his holidays, but nonetheless seeing Madam Pomfrey's face made him feel like he had rocks weighing down his stomach.

"I'm afraid I can't let you visit any of the infected students. You know that, Mr Prince."

Callidus pressed his lips together, but he had been expecting such a response, and he nodded. It looked like he would have to resort to the spider ears spell, and continue his plan of trying to sneak into the infirmary for an extended stay. The spider ears spell, like the owl sight spell, classified as Earth Magic, which meant that the process was a mesh of potion-like substances, and ritual incantations. Much like the owl sight ritual, the spider ears spell was simplistic; in truth, even a child would be able to perform such a ritual. But like most other Earth Magics, it had fallen out of popularity because of a slight association with Dark Magic, as well as the fact that having to perform rituals merely for an effect tended to be inconvenient and messy compared to wand waving and incantations.

Upon performing the spider ears spell, Callidus learned two unfortunate things: the infirmary was kept meticulously clean, which meant that spiders had no opportunity to make their home there, and worse, trying 'listen' through spiders' senses was even worse than Harry had described. Harry had said that trying to listen using spiders was like attempting to hear a conversation through a wall, and that was true enough. But what Harry had failed to convey was that hearing using spiders' sense made his whole head buzz with an uncomfortable vibration, as if his head were a gong, and the spiders' sense of hearing was ringing it. Through gritted teeth, he had mentioned this to Harry, but his friend had only laughed, saying: "It's not that bad. You kind of get used to it." Callidus highly doubted that.

To work his way around the fact that spiders simply did not reside in the hospital wing, Callidus had taken to collecting the small creatures, and surreptitiously setting them loose in the infirmary. This worked for about a day, perhaps two, but the house elves always found them in the end, setting them free outside the castle. He could tell that it made the matron suspicious to see him visiting the hospital wing so frequently, but of course she could never turn away a potential patient, so she likely thought that Callidus was a hypochondriac, so often did he complain of minor ailments like headaches, sore throats, and sleepless nights.

With that task slotted into his routine, he was able to spend more time and effort thinking of a way to corner the remarkably evasive Caiside, whose avoidance of him was becoming so obvious that even Ginny was starting to notice.

"Did the two of you have a row?" Hermione had asked nearly a fortnight later, brown eyes liquid with concern, during one of their study sessions, as if unable to bear the notion that her friends were in any state of discord. "Caiside seems to get upset when I ask her why she won't speak to you."

"I'm not trying to upset her. I merely wish to speak," Callidus had replied, to which, Hermione's worried expression had softened.

She patted him on the shoulder (and he only felt a tiny bit nauseated). "Don't worry. I'm sure things will work out."

In the end, it was Hermione (with Ginny's aid), that gave him the opportunity to finally speak to Caiside. Hermione had sent him a message, asking him to meet with her outside of their regular scheduled study sessions. It was the time when he would have ordinarily been tutoring Longbottom, but with Longbottom in the magical stasis, he ended up using that time as an extra lab period instead.

When he made his way up to the fourth floor classroom, Hermione was waiting for him outside the door, her eyes darting back and forth along the corridor in a way that made him instantly suspicious.

He slowed his steps. "What's going on?"

"You wanted to speak to Caiside, didn't you? Well, I'm giving you your chance. Go in!" She gestured to the classroom. "She should be here any moment. Just wait."

True to her word, he soon heard a pair of feminine voices outside the door, and moments later, Caiside stumbled into the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Hey!" Caiside jiggled at the door handle, but it appeared that Hermione had locked it. Caiside cursed, turning around to face Callidus, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. "She took my wand! I can't believe she would do that, and leave me with you!"

Callidus frowned. With the way Caiside spoke, it was almost as if she thought he intended to do her harm. "You know I'm not planning to hex you. I simply wanted to speak to you. You've been impossible to get a hold of. One would think that you were avoiding me."

Caiside huffed, crossing her arms. "I am avoiding you." Her words caused his frown to deepen. It appeared that the more time she spent in Gryffindor, the more of a Gryffindor she was becoming, bluntness and all. "I have nothing to say to you. In fact, I'm far too busy revising."

"Oh? You never seemed that intent on your academic performance before - not like Hermione or me. But even Hermione and I, as ambitious as we are about our grades, will still take the time to consider the outside world. I merely wanted to know why you were so distressed about the idea that the Orange Madness could be created? One might suspect that you know something."

"I don't know anything!" Caiside quickly interjected.

Callidus kept his expression impassive. "Perhaps not you specifically. But -" he paused, noting the tightness of her jaw, "what about your mother?"

The blood seem to drain from Caiside's face. "What about my mother."

"Your expression suggests that she might know something. Perhaps her work in potions has given her some knowledge that the rest of us aren't privy to?"

Caiside's eyes took on an obstinate glint. "If mum has knowledge that, as you say, we aren't privy to, then what makes you think that I would know anything? You know that my mother doesn't discuss her work with me."

Callidus shrugged, all the while aware that Caiside was acting like a cornered cat, lashing out however she could. "It's just that you've had a rather interesting reaction when I mentioned the idea of the Orange Madness being created - the sort of reaction that instantly cast you in a suspicious light. After all, if you didn't know anything, why would the idea of the disease being wizard-made affect you? Your mother is somehow involved in this, isn't she."

Caiside shook her head. "No! No, she has nothing to do with any of this! You don't know anything!" She turned around and began to pound on the door. " Hermione! Let me out! Let me out now!"

The door flew open, and Caiside ran out, as if she had a Cerberus on her heels. Hermione gave her friend a bewildered look, before turning towards Callidus, with a look of accusation. "I thought you just wanted to speak! What did you say to make her so upset?"

Callidus crossed his arms defensively. "I wasn't trying to upset her. I was just trying to find out why she was avoiding me."

"And?"

Callidus pressed his lips together. "It's - personal."

Hermione's eyes drilled into him, before she gave him a curt nod. "I'll speak to her - try and calm her down."

Callidus nodded. "Thank you." The words were meant both as appreciation for having the opportunity to speak to Caiside, as well as for Hermione's willingness to try to repair the situation. She seemed to understand him well enough, and turn to leave to chase after Caiside. When they were gone, Callidus made his way back down to the dungeons, taking a sedate pace as he tried to sort out his thoughts.

He knew it was a bad idea to make assumptions, but Caiside's actions had been so telling. More and more, he was certain that Wystan's hypothesis might very well be fact, and Madam Filodoxos might have something to do with it. But what could he do with this knowledge? Even if he spoke to Madam Filodoxos himself, it wasn't as if she would tell him anything. And worse, whether the disease was manufactured or not, it didn't mean that a cure necessarily existed.

He thought about what he knew of Madam Filodoxos, and what her intentions might be (though he was aware that perhaps her intentions had nothing to do with it, that the disease might be the intention of this mysterious secret company that she worked for). But people tended to work on projects that aligned with their personal beliefs, didn't they? Or was such a notion too Hufflepuff-ish to be considered? But it was true that Madam Filodoxos had strong pureblood values. And he remembered thinking that her perspective towards the disease was rather unconcerned. Wasn't it she who thought that it would be no big deal to go to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping, despite the fact that the majority of wizarding society was in a panic because of the disease? A normal person wouldn't be so blase about their own well-being or the well-being of their family. Surely, it meant something.

He had to speak to her. Silently, he cursed the fact that he had let Draco drag him to Malfoy Manor instead of visiting the Filodoxos' home. But he could still write to her couldn't he? And though he did not want to feed his hopes prematurely, maybe, just maybe, there might already be a cure. And if there was a cure, then Longbottom and all the other students could be saved.

He shook his head, oblivious to the strange looks he was getting from the other students in the corridors. He couldn't let his hopes fly away from him. He had to be realistic. Because if the disease had been created by purebloods with the intention of frightening (or worse, killing) muggleborns, then it suggested that they wouldn't bother with a cure. The very idea sent a terrible chill down his spine. Nonetheless, he thought that he had to take the chance. He would write to Madam Filodoxos. Somehow, he would get to the bottom of this.

Composing a letter to Madam Filodoxos ended up being far more of a challenge than he could have imagined. He was no Gryffindor and had no intention of taking a direct approach. Besides, only an idiot would confess to such a thing after receiving a letter. No, he had to be circumspect about this. If he was careless, and if Madam Filodoxos' secret employers happened to have more power than he realized, then the act of simply putting his name to this letter could put himself in danger. After all, manufacturing a disease and then inflicting it on wizarding society was no small conspiracy. And if Longbottom's life wasn't on the line, then perhaps he would have chosen to play the self-preserving Slytherin, keeping his head down. But he couldn't keep his head down about this.

In the end, he decided on a brief message, omitting his name:

I know that the Orange Madness is not a natural disease. I know that it was created, and that you are involved, and I know your pureblood aims. If you don't want this information to end up as front page news on the Daily Prophet, then I advise that you give me the cure. I am aware that you may not be able to procure the cure immediately, so I shall send this owl back to you in one week's time. I'm sure that you will come to the right decision.

He read and reread it. It seemed both anonymous enough, and menacing enough, and deciding that he could think of nothing better, he sent it off with one of the school owls. Hope began to unfurl in his chest once again. Was this really all it would take to cure the Orange Madness? But no, he knew that he shouldn't get his hopes up. And yet, it seemed that he couldn't help himself.

"Are you close to figuring something out with your potions?" Harry remarked, as the Slytherins were getting ready for bed. "You've been preoccupied lately."

Callidus looked up at Harry, composing his expression before he shrugged. "I might be close to making a breakthrough," he'd dissembled. Harry gave him an uncertain smile that caused Callidus to pause.

Frowning, Callidus asked: "What is it?"

Harry sighed, and began to wring his hands, and Callidus felt a flutter of unease in his gut. "Well, it's just that -" he looked away, and scrunched up his face in frustration. "Argh! I hate being the bearer of bad news! And I know the timing is terrible, with exams coming up and all, but -"

"But?"

"It might be a good idea to avoid, you know, sleeping for a while. Those fifth years, and all."

Callidus's brows drew downwards. "You heard something from the spiders ears spell?"

"Yeah." Harry's voice was little more than a whisper. With his hunched posture on his bed, it almost looked as if he blamed himself.

"Don't worry about me," Callidus tried to reassure him, doing his best to keep the grimace off his face. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

He tried to push away the growing sense of dread. "Yeah. I'll be all right."

-o-

Perhaps it was because they were creeping ever closer to the end of the school year, but the fifth year students seemed more determined than ever to inflict whatever mysterious nighttime punishment upon him, and Callidus found himself getting less and less sleep, as he did his best to survive on daytime cat naps. Attempting to focus on classes or revising became more difficult than ever, and he could barely even think about making progress on interpreting the intricacies of magic sight. It was a good thing that Draco and Harry had taken it upon themselves to make the secret chamber more comfortable, because if Callidus had to think about furniture types and rugs on top of everything else, he was sure that he would have a breakdown, and Madam Pomfrey would have no choice but to keep him in the infirmary, confined his bed. On the other hand, maybe having a mental breakdown wouldn't be such a bad thing, if it really did offer him the chance to stay in the infirmary. Could he act one out well enough? But then again, maybe there was no need. After all, he should be receiving his reply from Madam Filodoxos soon.

He was in History of Magic, Binns' reedy monotone voice lulling him into the most wonderful state of deep relaxation as he tucked his head into his arms, and drifted in and out of consciousness, when he felt an uncomfortable vibration in his head. Somehow, he managed to bite back the groan that threaten to escape his lips, recognizing the feeling of the spider ears spell. He mentally cursed himself for having made it a habit to sneak spiders into the infirmary. It wasn't as if he was learning anything useful, and worse, now it was disrupting his wonderful day time rest. Though he knew that he could tune the muffled vibrations out, the part of him that wanted to discover what was wrong with the diseased students was too strong. So, clenching his jaw against the headache that was sure to come, he forced himself to listen.

"- monitoring...not...better...worried...research….anything?" Despite the horrible distortions, he guessed Madam Pomfrey's voice from the higher pitch.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He had no clue how Harry could manage to make sense of anything from this spell. Straining his ears, he continue to listen.

"- doing all we...pursuing multiple...children more vulnerable than we feared...repeat status report?" It was a lower pitched voice that spoke this.

"- about the same... he was the first to be infected...deteriorating. As for... seems to be holding steady. And Longbottom -"

Callidus inhaled sharply, but then, remembering where he was, he remained still. The other students might find his behaviour odd, but at least Binns would remain oblivious. Somehow, he forced himself to listen even harder.

"Longbottom's status worries me the most...younger...and though...one of the more recent to be infected...deteriorating the fastest…"

He felt as if he had been plunged in cold water. His earlier sleepiness had completely vanished, and as his heartbeat drummed within his chest, he felt a sense of urgency and panic, as if he had to do something, and yet what could he do? He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, causing all eyes (even Binns) to focus upon him.

"I'm not feeling well," he managed to croak out, "I - I need to go to the infirmary."

"Very well," Binns said, with no changed his tone of voice, "and as I was saying, the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards was responsible for the lasting treaty between -"

Callidus had his bag packed and was out the door before he could hear the rest. He rushed down the stairs and through the corridors, very nearly running through the ghost of the Fat Friar, before reaching the hospital wing. Barely waiting for his breaths to become even, he pushed open the door and made his way inside. The matron spotted him right away, her eyes widening as she noticed his expression.

"I - I -" he realized belatedly that he hadn't thought of a reason for being here. But Madam Pomfrey merely clucked her tongue before urging him towards one of the beds, and running diagnostics spells on him.

"Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, and you seem to be terribly deprived of sleep. I know how stressful upcoming exams can be, but that's no reason to neglect your health."

Without thinking, he blurted out: "How are the infected students? How is Longbottom?"

Madam Pomfrey paled. "We are treating them as best as we can."

"But it's not enough, is it."

"Mr Prince, I must insist that you calm yourself, for your own sake. Worrying about the other students will not bring them back any sooner." She hurried away towards the potions cabinet, returning with a Calming and Sleeping Draught. "Take this one now - and as for this one, take it before you go to bed." Her eyes were piercing, and he couldn't bring himself to protest, swallowing down the Calming Draught quickly. It was only a few short minutes before he could feel a gentle warmth spreading through him, and a sense of softness that seemed to blanket his mind.

He sighed, looking up at the matron entreatingly. "Can't you tell me anything about the others?"

The matron pursed her lips. "As I said, we're doing all that we can. Now rest. If you need me, just call." And with one final look over, she left his side and made her way towards her office, leaving him alone. Though Madam Pomfrey did not shut her door behind her, Callidus felt his heart sprinting ever faster as he realized that he might finally have an opportunity to examine the infected students. He always kept his owl sight potion and Longbottom's Brew on hand, knowing that it was better to be prepared.

Darting a nervous glance towards the matron's office, he climbed out of his bed, and pulled the phials out of his book bag. Applying the owl sight potion with short work, but just as he uncorked Longbottom's Brew, ready to vapourize it, Madam Pomfrey's voice caused him to nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What are you doing out of bed? If you're feeling rested enough, it's best you make your way to your next class."

Callidus cursed his luck, capping the potion and stuffing it back in his book bag. "I - I was just getting one of my books."

"Is that so," the matron said sceptically. Pulling out her wand, she ran another diagnostic spell, and murmured, "You seem to be fine - have you been casting spells? I'm detecting a disturbance in your sense of balance. Let me run some more tests."

Callidus winced. Could she be detecting the effects of the owl sight potion? He didn't want to have to explain it. "No! No, I'm fine. I'm quite fine. I'll - just be leaving now."

And before Madam Pomfrey could utter a word of complaint, he grabbed his bag and rushed out the door. As he ambled along the corridors, he once again cursed his luck as well as his tiredness. It was so hard to think clearly when he was so sleep deprived. Why hadn't he just admitted to feeling dizzy, so that he could have stayed in the infirmary longer, to potentially investigate the diseased students? Maybe it wasn't too late? But no, he realized a moment later that Madam Pomfrey was far too sharp, and if she had sensed a spell on him, she would have spent every moment trying to remove it. Shaking his head and sighing, he decided to make his way back to the dormitory. Nothing sounded better then a much-needed afternoon nap.

-o-

Callidus was at breakfast, seconds away from falling asleep in his porridge. No matter how many naps he took, it was no substitute for a full night of sleep, and yet, day after day, Harry continued to give him long looks of sympathy and guilt as he said: "I'm sorry. The fifth years are determined to try again. Maybe we should tell someone? Slughorn?" At this point, Callidus couldn't tell if it was good judgement or not that he still refused to speak to any of the professors. What were his reasons for not telling anyway? He was sure that it was something important.

A soft rustling sound announced the arrival of the owl post. Too tired to crane his neck up, he rested more of his weight on his hand, ignoring the irritated looks from some of the other Slytherins for having his elbows on the table. Just as his eyes drifted closed, he felt something drop on top of his head, before falling forward and nearly landing in his porridge. Immediately, his eyes widened and his heart began to thump when he realized it was a letter.

He opened the parchment, recognizing Madam Filodoxos' handwriting, and eagerly, his eyes flew across the page.

You claims are outlandish and libelous. You have no proof that the Orange Madness was created, and your words are those of a fearful madman. I insist that you stop owling me with your threats, or I shall have to take action and contact the Aurors.

Callidus sat frozen, not expecting the reply that he had been given.

"Callidus? Are you okay?"

He started at Harry's voice, and realized that the letter had become a crinkled mess in his hand. "I'm fine."

"Erm - all right."

He gave his friend a weak smile, before looking back down at the crumpled parchment. There was something about the situation, but his sluggish and sleep deprived mine wasn't fully grasping it. Feeling a sudden anger, he stuffed the letter into his pocket, and forced himself to finish his porridge. The letter sounded final, and yet some part of him told him that this was, by no means, finished.

He was in Herbology, absent-mindedly fertilizing their mandrake root (his tiredness causing him to spill an inordinate amount on the table and floor), when it suddenly hit him. If his initial guess about Madam Filodoxos' involvement with possibly creating the Orange Madness was wrong, why had it taken her a week to reply? Why had she not penned out an offended and angry response and sent it with the first owl? If anything, by waiting a week for his second owl, it suggested that her reply had been carefully planned out. Or perhaps his exhaustion was slowly driving him insane and he was grasping at straws. But then, he found himself thinking of Longbottom's open and friendly face. Cursed Gryffindors! They were the bane of his existence! But for Longbottom's sake, he would write back to Madam Filodoxos. Whether this was merely grasping at straws or not, he would see this through to the end.