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:  Duo reacts to Quatre’s collapse.  Quatre is rushed to the Hospital Wing for treatment.

Soldiers of Sorcery

Part Fifteen

“Fuck!”  Duo exclaimed, the moment he noticed that Quatre’s eyes had gone unfocused.  Only seconds later, the blonde had
collapsed, hitting his head on the wooden table in front of him before landing on the stone floor of the dungeon classroom.

Duo jumped from his seat, ignoring Professor’s Snape’s voice telling him to sit down.  He had to help Quatre.  Quatre was his
friend and he had been a witness to the blonde’s frail health a couple times before.  He knew the signs . . . recognized this as an
empathic overload of sorts.  It was obvious that Quatre had sensed something much too strong for him to take, probably from
Snape.  The presence of the Slytherins in the room probably hadn’t helped any either.  

Still, Duo wondered why it had affected Quatre so badly.  Quatre was by no means weak.  And he had many years of
experience in dealing with mental blocks and pushing unwanted emotions from his mind.  He should be okay despite whatever
he had sensed.  Perhaps this was what he had been hiding from them all week.  Maybe something was wrong with his abilities.  
That would explain his apparent illness, would explain the paleness of his skin and how tired he had gotten over this past week.

Duo took note of the head injury, the blood that was steadily flowing from a gash on Quatre’s forehead.  He pried open one of
Quatre’s eyes, frowning deeply when he took notice of the condition of the pupil.  Most likely, Quatre had a concussion.

Quatre’s body suddenly began to shiver violently.  Duo looked over, seeing that Snape was approaching.  “You stay back.”  Duo
said, fully aware that this course of action would probably result in him losing hundreds of points for Gryffindor.  But right now
Quatre was more important that the house cup.

Snape glared, but he did take a step back, his dark eyes watching Quatre’s reaction to his minor retreat.  Duo turned back to
Quatre, sighing in relief as he watched the shivers slow and then cease.  Snape wasn’t close enough to injure him with his
negative feelings.  That was a good thing at least.

“What’s wrong with him?”  Snape asked, his tone making it sound more like a demand for an answer than a request.

“He’s an empath.”  Duo replied.  “Apparently he sensed something unpleasant from you.”

“Doesn’t he know how to use blocks?”  Snape asked, a genuine hint of surprise in his voice.

“He’s been ill this past week.  None of us are really sure why.”  Heero stated.  “He won’t talk about it.”

With a sharp muttered phrase, Snape rushed forward, sweeping Quatre into his arms and ignoring Duo’s protests.  Duo
watched as Quatre’s body began shuddering.  “You’re hurting him.”  Duo said worriedly.

“Believe me, he will be better off if I get him to the Hospital Wing now.  If you say that he’s been sick for a week, it is probably
because he’s lost control over his own abilities.  They will kill him if he doesn’t receive treatment.”  Snape hissed back.  Before
leaving the class, he dished out an assignment.  “Read the first five chapters in your books and write a three-page essay on one
of the ingredients mentioned within.  Class dismissed.”  A moment later, he had swept out of the classroom, leaving Duo to
worry over the health of his young friend.


Professor Snape rushed along the corridor, moving with haste to the Hospital Wing.  This was his own fault and he knew it.  
His student was an empath, and now unconscious due to an inability to block emotions . . . he should have noticed the
symptoms himself, but he hadn’t been paying attention.

The pale blonde he carried was shivering, the tremors in his body worsening with each passing moment.  It was the contact
with Snape’s body that was causing this, something that Snape could not help even if he wanted to.  The blonde was open now,
all of his walls down and Snape’s mind was an open book to him.  He only hoped that this experience would not permanently
scar the child.

“Good heavens!  What happened?”  Professor McGonagall’s voice called out, just a moment before the transfiguration
instructor stepped out of her classroom.  Snape knew that she was without a class at this hour, her next class wouldn’t arrive
for a while.

“The boy is an empath . . . his blocks seem to have collapsed.”  Snape responded, adjusting his hold on the boy as he briskly

McGonagall stepped in front of him, blocking his path.  “And YOU are the one carrying him?”  She asked incredulously.  “What
on Earth are you thinking?  Give him here!”  She held out her arms.

Snape shook his head.  There was no time for this.  Already the boy had gone into convulsions, his small body becoming
increasingly difficult to hold onto.  “I’m the faster of the two of us, and I can get him to Madam Pomfrey sooner.  Now
move!”  He demanded, pushing his way past McGonagall and continuing on his way.

He knew that she was following him, but said nothing.  His only concern was for his student at the moment.  By his own fault
he had caused this.  And he would do what he could to help him if he was able to.

He barged into the Hospital Wing, quickly striding over to the first empty bed he saw and set the young man down on it.  
Madam Pomfrey ran out of her office, gasping as she stepped over to the side of the bed, watching the young man thrash
around, his face contorted in pain.  Snape removed his arms from around his student, taking steps back as fast as he could,
nearly sighing in relief as he watched the seizure slow and finally stop.  He stayed near the door, knowing that to get any closer
would cause more pain to the young blonde.

“What happened?”  Madam Pomfrey asked.  

“He’s an empath.  He fainted in my class.”  Snape replied, ignoring the presence of McGonagall who stood nearby.  His gaze
was focused on the blonde, whose body was heaving with his attempts to take deep breaths, his body covered in sweat as he
wheezed and gasped.

“I knew your bad attitude would hurt someone eventually.  You should learn to lighten up, Serverus.”  Madam Pomfrey chided,
turning to a nearby tray and mixing something.

“Quatre?!”  A voice called out in surprise, gaining Snape’s attention.  He turned, watching as a boy in another bed looked over.  
Snape recognized the girl who stood by his bedside as Ginny Weasley.

Madam Pomfrey turned to the brunette boy.  “Trowa, you know him?”  She asked, but didn’t wait for an answer.  “Good, then
you can provide answers.  How long has he shown signs of being an empath?”

Trowa apparently wanted to get out of bed, but Ginny held him back.  “He told me once that it started shortly after he hit

“And has he ever been unstable before?”  Madam Pomfrey asked.

Trowa bowed his head and didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he quietly spoke.  “Yes, he was emotionally unstable
following his father’s death . . . he witnessed it and I guess you could say he took out his rage in a destructive manner.”

“What did he do?”  McGonagall asked.

“He destroyed a colony.”  Trowa whispered, his head lowered.  “Quatre built a Gundam and used it to destroy a colony . . . the
system warped his mind, twisted him until he wasn’t in control of himself anymore really.  He saw us all as enemies.  He nearly
killed Heero and me.”

“He was that boy I heard about?”  Snape asked, genuinely surprised.  Whoever would have guessed that the ones most involved
in a Muggle war had been wizards?  He was quite surprised that the pale blonde had done such destruction, that he had been
what was referred to as a Gundam Pilot.  He didn’t seem the type to kill.

Trowa nodded.  “We all were Gundam pilots, Duo, Heero, Wufei, Quatre and I.”  He said.

“Enough, we don’t need to hear all of this.”  Madam Pomfrey cut in, turning back to Quatre with a small jar in her hands.  She
dipped her finger in, then spread a glob of purple gel over the wound on Quatre’s forehead.  Wiping her hand off, she then
pulled out her wand.  “Ennervate!”  She said firmly.

Quatre’s eyes opened minutely, and he quickly looked around to take in his surroundings.  He looked to be getting ready to open
his mouth, but said nothing.  Instead, he looked away, shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“What’s wrong with him?”  McGonagall asked worriedly.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head.  “He can’t control his empathic abilities.  He’s sensing too much from all of us and it has
overwhelmed him to the point where he can no longer communicate well.”  She braced her hands on either side of Quatre’s
face, turning him to look at her.  “How long has it been since you lost control?  What caused this, Quatre?”  She asked,
speaking slowly.

Quatre struggled for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before he was able to get out a few words.  “A week .
. . Trowa caused . . . hit me like her.”  Quatre said, raising a hand to weakly point at McGonagall.

“What does he mean by that?”  Madam Pomfrey asked.  “When were you hit by Mr. Barton?”

“Last week.”  McGonagall replied, then clamped her hands over her mouth.  “Oh good lord, he can’t mean that.  Mr. Barton
knocked me over with a telekinetic wave.”

“Damn!  He must have knocked Quatre’s perception out of balance.  No wonder he’s been having trouble placing blocks,
everything is out of wack.”  Madam Pomfrey said in a rush, then quickly left the room to her office.  

Snape shook his head, looking at the boy quivering on the hospital bed.  He hadn’t known it was this serious.  He had just
thought that the boy was inexperienced, not that he had been attacked inadvertently.  He hoped that Madam Pomfrey could help
him.  Of course Poppy was a skilled woman . . . he knew she would figure something out.

Madam Pomfrey returned a moment later, carrying a small vial in her hand.  The liquid inside was a vibrant blue and appeared to
be glowing faintly.  As she approached Quatre’s bedside, she pulled the cork out of the top and tossed it aside, pulling a chair
over to the bed.  “Come on, Quatre . . . I need you to sit up.”  Madam Pomfrey urged, helping Quatre to rise to a sitting position.

Quatre sat there on the edge of the bed, watching her blankly, his eyes seemingly fogging over with nothingness.  This looked to
be very serious.  He was rapidly losing himself.  Madam Pomfrey didn’t appear to have much time.

“Drink this.”  Madam Pomfrey said, holding the edge of the vial to his lips and tilting it for him to drink.  When it was half
empty, she took it away from him.  She drank the remainder herself, then set the empty vial aside.  Then she took a seat in front
of Quatre, taking hold of his hands while she stared deep into his eyes.  “Focus, Quatre.  Let me help you . . . let me in.”

To Be Continued . . .