Disclaimers:  I do not own either Gundam Wing or Harry Potter.  I am making no money with this.  This story is purely for
entertainment purposes only.

Notes:  Quatre starts showing signs of a serious problem.

Soldiers of Sorcery

Part Fourteen

“Come on, Quatre . . . Don’t want to miss breakfast, do you?”  Duo asked, gently pushing Quatre in an attempt to awaken him.

Quatre wearily opened his eyes, then closed them again.  He didn’t feel like waking up.  He was just so tired, and he didn’t know
why.  He had gotten plenty of sleep, his night quite peaceful as he slumbered.  However, now he wanted to sleep more . . . he
just couldn’t understand it.

“Go ‘way, Duo.  I’ll get up.”  Quatre mumbled into his pillow, pulling his blankets up over his head to block out the light.

Duo sighed, but he did stop his incessant pushing against Quatre’s tired body.  “Okay, but don’t sleep too long.  We have
Defense Against the Dark Arts today.  You don’t want to miss the first class, do you?”

“No, I’ll be there.  Just a few more minutes.”  Quatre mumbled, waving his hand in what he hoped was Duo’s general
direction.  A moment later, Quatre heard as Duo left the room.

These past few days, Quatre had felt tired.  It had started on that first night, when Trowa had passed out in the dorm room.  
Quatre had sensed such fear and emotional anguish from his friend, the panic and terror of being touched.  And then when
Trowa had used his hidden telekinetic skills, Quatre had felt himself being shoved mentally, as if the force was directed at his
mind and not at Professor McGonagall who had been approaching Trowa at the time.

After that, things had just rapidly progressed downhill.  With each class Quatre was left more and more weakened.  Quatre
couldn’t hold his mental blocks in place.  It was as if Trowa’s telekinetic shove had left cracks in Quatre’s control, weaknesses
that kept growing with each passing day.  So far, only faint emotions were creeping to mix with his own, brief glimpses of his
fellow classmates’ personalities.  However, soon it could turn into much more, something that would not only leave him
physically drained, but dangerously ill.  He only hoped that he would be able to correct this problem before it got that bad.

Still, although he knew the problem and the probable cause of it, he had no idea of how to correct it.  He didn’t understand why
his attempts kept failing, why he had lost his grip on his abilities.  Eventually, the tentative hold that he still contained would fade,
but it would be a while before that happened . . . he had time to regain control.  So far he had not sensed anything so
dangerously strong . . . not strong enough to drain him entirely.

When he did finally awaken, he gulped . . . he would be late for class if he didn’t hurry.  He had completely missed breakfast
and was now in danger of being late for his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  With a muttered curse, Quatre climbed
from bed, throwing on his clothes and robes as quickly as he could.  He stuffed his wand and the books that he would need
today in his bag and ran his hands through his hair, hoping that it looked at least somewhat presentable.  Then he ran from the
dorm room, knowing that if he didn’t hurry, he would probably get in trouble and lose points for his house.  He did not want to
do that.

He was out of breath before he even reached the hallway where the class was located.  He had gotten the hang of the castle’s
tricky hallways and numerous blind staircases early on . . . living in mansions his entire life had helped with that, even if he had
never met stairs that led to different areas on certain days in any of his estates.  So he knew where he was going, but still it was
a long way to go.

His teeth hurt, he had run so much, sweat dripping along the sides of his face.  He probably looked like a complete wreck right
about now.  Quatre was so intent on getting to class on time, that he didn’t even notice the fact that there was someone ahead
of him until he ran right into the person.  They both went crashing to the stone floor, their books scattering around them.  

“Oh, I am so sorry.”  Quatre apologized, catching his breath as he disentangled himself from the unfortunate person he had run

“No, that’s quite all right.”  The person said, brushing off his robes as he got up.  Then he crouched down, gathering together
his various books and his wand from where they had fallen, helping Quatre to pick his up and return them to his bag.

Quatre blushed, feeling like a clumsy idiot as he picked up his bag.  He stood, but promptly sagged to the ground again, the
energy leaving his body quickly.  He had been careless . . . he had weakened himself by running.  If he had gotten up when Duo
had said then he would have been able to replenish some of his energy at breakfast, but he hadn’t.  And now he was worse.

Hands fell on his shoulders.  “Are you well?”  A kind voice asked.

Quatre raised his gaze, meeting a pair of bright emerald eyes for a brief moment.  Then he tore his focus away and forced a
nod.  Perhaps it was another student, Quatre thought, taking note that this person couldn’t be much older than he was.  He was
tall and thin, with black hair and a pair of glasses over bright emerald eyes.  

“Yes, I-I’m fine.” He said, then amended his words so that it wasn’t a total lie.  “I just overslept and now I’m late for class.  
Sorry I ran into you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  The other young man reassured him, helping Quatre to his feet.  “Are you sure you’re well?  You look
a bit pale.  Perhaps you should go lie down in the Hospital Wing.”

Quatre shook his head.  “N-No, I can’t.  I’ll be fine.  I just don’t want to miss my class . . . I’ll be fine.”  He stammered, then
lightly pushed the young man’s hands off his arms.  “Excuse me . . . I’ve got to go.  Thank you for your concern.”

Then without looking back, or waiting for a reply, Quatre hurried off down the hall, turning at the corner.  He headed into the
room, nearly sighing in relief when he saw that the teacher hadn’t arrived yet.  So he quickly went over to where Duo was
sitting with Wufei and Heero, dropping into a seat near the back of the class.

“Hey, Quatre.  Guess you’re lucky . . . the teacher isn’t here.”  Duo said, turning in his seat to smile at Quatre.  “I would have
come back to see if you were up after breakfast, but I was visiting Trowa in the Hospital Wing and lost track of time.”

“Oh, how is he?”  Quatre asked, wiping the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead.

“He’s doing a lot better.  Almost all healed up.  Madam Pomfrey said he’ll probably be out in a few more days.  She wants to be
sure he’s better before letting him out.”  Duo replied.  “Hey, you okay, Quatre?”

Wufei and Heero both turned, looking to Quatre after Duo asked that question.  Suddenly, Quatre felt quite nervous.  He smiled
shakily, his hands fidgeting in his lap.  “I’ll be fine.  It’s nothing to worry about.  I just had to run all the way here from the
tower . . . just out of breath, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t do that, Quatre.”  Heero chided.  “It’s not good for your health.”

“And you haven’t looked all that well all week.”  Wufei added.

“I’m fine.”  Quatre hissed through clenched teeth.  

The others flinched in reaction and Quatre clapped his hand over his mouth, knowing that he had let his emotions slip.  Someone
in this room was not happy . . . quite annoyed for some reason, Quatre must have inadvertently picked up on it.  He took his
hand away from his mouth and set it on the table before him, resting his other hand on the surface as well.  For a few moments,
he closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts and emotions, trying once again to repair the block he held against foreign feelings.  
The emotions faded from his consciousness, but didn’t truly leave, they never did.

“Quatre?”  Duo asked, reaching his hand over and setting it down on Quatre’s wrist.

Quatre pulled his hand back, lowering his head even as he opened his eyes.  “Don’t ask . . . not now.”  Quatre whispered,
hoping that his friend would back off.

“Okay, Quatre, but you will explain what just happened later, won’t you?”  Duo replied.

Before Quatre could reply, the door of the classroom opened.  The young man he had collided with in the hallway strolled into
the room, wearing a bright smile.  “Sorry I’m late, class . . . I was held up in the hallway.  I’m your instructor . . . Professor
Potter.” He greeted.

Quatre blushed, his heart thumping in his chest.  This was too embarrassing to be true.  He had knocked over a teacher in a
hallway?  Oh this was just too much to bear.  Then he noticed that the rest of the class had broken out into whispers, some of
them pointing at the young teacher.  He wondered what that was all about.

“I’m sure at least some of you have already heard of me from your parents or older siblings, I don’t want you to believe
everything you hear.”  Professor Potter said, laying his books on a desk at the front of the class.

A young girl in the front row raised her hand high and waited politely until she was called on before she spoke.  “Is it true about
the scar then?”  She asked.  A number of other students leaned forward in their seats.  Quatre was just confused.

Professor Potter nodded.  “Yes, that is quite true.”  He raised his hand to his head, brushing back his thick bangs to reveal what
looked to be a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.  A moment later, he let his bangs drop again.  Many of the students
gasped, once again breaking into whispers amongst themselves.  Again, Quatre was just confused.

“Let's take role call, and we can get class started.  I don’t intend to just jump into the toughest subjects from the start, so you’ll
just have to wait to learn about the three Unforgivable Curses, such as the one that caused my scar.”  Professor Potter said,
ignoring the number of disappointed moans from several of the class.  Instead, he went through the role call, pausing when
Quatre replied to his name and smirking a bit, then continuing until he reached the last name on his list.

Quatre turned, taking his book from the bag he had set on the floor earlier.  Then he searched around for his quill and ink.  He
frowned when he was only able to find the ink, wondering where his quill was.  So he picked up his bag, looking through it
more thoroughly.  He didn’t want to lose the quill . . . it had been his mother’s, Cera had told him so.  She had wanted him to
have it and now he had lost it.  He bit his lip, knowing that he couldn’t let his emotions get away from him again.

“I believe this is yours, Mr. Winner.”  A voice said, the quill that Quatre had been searching for held out to him.  “You dropped
it in the hall after we spoke.”

Quatre looked up, his cheeks burning as he took his quill from Professor Potter.  “Thanks.”  He said shyly, feeling even more
embarrassed than when he had when he found out that he had run into his teacher in the hallway and made a big scene.

Professor Potter nodded, then strolled back to his desk, scrawling the assignment over the chalkboard at the front of the room.  
Duo turned to Quatre, a huge grin on his face.  “So that’s what you were hiding . . . met the teacher before, did ya?”  He
giggled, then added in a low whisper, smirking deviously.  “Well, he is cute.”

Quatre blushed an even deeper shade.  He cleared his throat, opening his book and laying a few parchments on his table.  He
purposely directed his attention to his work, deciding to ignore Duo’s jests.  Duo returned to his own work as well.

The rest of the class went well.  Quatre was saved from any further embarrassment and Professor Potter seemed to be quite an
adequate teacher.  He had stated that this was his first year as a teacher, but Quatre didn’t find anything lacking in his teaching
skills at all.  In fact, he was far more interesting than any of the boring tutors that Quatre had to deal with in the course of his

After class, Quatre was stopped by Professor Potter on his way out.  Duo, Wufei, and Heero said that they would wait outside
for him, then left the room.  Quatre was alone with Professor Potter and once again feeling quite nervous.  He wasn’t sure why,
but his heart was fluttering and he felt a bit lightheaded.

“You wanted to speak with me?”  Quatre asked, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

“I just wanted to be sure that you are feeling well.”  Professor Potter said.  “You do look pale and tired.”

Quatre shook his head.  “There’s nothing to worry about.  I’ve always had pale skin.  I just missed breakfast today since I slept
too late . . . but I’ll be fine.”  Quatre said, smiling.  He wished he hadn’t just lied to his teacher, but there really was no other

“If you’re certain, I guess there is nothing more I can say on the matter.”  Professor Potter stated, sighing a bit.

“Can I go now, sir?”  Quatre asked.  “I have double Potions and I would hate to be late.”

Professor Potter nodded.  “By all means.  But try not to run in the halls.  Filch tends to give away detentions when he catches
students doing that.”

Quatre smirked, then turned and left.  Wufei, Heero and Duo were still waiting for him.  Without asking or saying anything, the
four of them walked briskly to their next class.  Quatre frowned deeply when he saw that Dorothy and Relena were seated near
the front of the class, along with a number of other Slytherins.  Quatre shuddered as a sudden wave of unpleasant feelings
wafted through him.  He probably would have collapsed, if not for Duo taking hold of his arm and guiding him to a seat closer
to the back of the class.  It didn’t look as if his first Potions class would turn out to be a pleasant one.

Things just went downhill from there.  Only a moment later, the instructor of the class stepped into the room, stalking over to
the chalkboard and scrawling his name across it.  Quatre bit back a gasp, recognizing Professor Snape as the teacher he had
nearly passed out just from walking by on that first night.  This day was just getting worse and worse by the hour, at least it
sure seemed that way to Quatre.

Professor Snape called role, glaring at each Gryffindor momentarily.  Then after a short speech, Snape began his class with a
number of questions, all of which were directed at different Gryffindors.  Barely any of them had the correct answers, leaving
the other Slytherins to snicker at them and Snape to ask even more questions.  Finally, Snape directed a question at Quatre,
striding over toward the blonde as he asked.  

“What must be done to a shrivelfig to prepare it to be added to a Shrinking Solution?”  Snape asked, sneering down at Quatre
with his arms crossed over his chest.

Quatre gulped, his mouth suddenly going dry.  He felt his body breaking out into goose bumps and fought the urge to shiver,
knowing that it would only cause him more embarrassment.  He parted his lips, intending to make some reply, but found that no
sound would leave his throat.  A number of negative feelings were just rolling off of Snape, hitting Quatre in the chest like a ton
of bricks.  What little control he had been able to maintain, was wavering under the hard glare of the Potions Professor.

“Well, do you have an answer or not?”  Snape asked, his tone condescending and impatient.

Once again, Quatre opened his mouth, but once more nothing came out.  The last shred of control Quatre had slipped, leaving
both his mind and body totally drained of energy.  Dizziness swam through his very being and the sensation that he was falling
quickly overwhelmed his senses.  An instant later, blackness clouded his vision, the world going dark a moment before a sharp
pain shot through his skull.

To Be Continued . . .