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 recovers.  After he’s better, he has to deal with the side effects of the tenuous bond between his mind and
Professor Snape’s, and for the first time notices a rather nasty Slytherin youth.

Soldiers of Sorcery

Part Eighteen

Quatre didn’t know how long he had been asleep.  However, he did know that he felt better than his previous bout of
wakefulness.  He wasn’t as dizzy, nor did the light sting his eyes as harshly as it had before.  He was disoriented, unsure of
what was going on, but at least the ache in his head was less substantial.

Again, Madam Pomfrey was there by his bedside.  “How are you feeling, Quatre?”  She asked, her voice tender and kind.  

“Tired.  Confused.”  Quatre replied wearily.  There was something missing, but for some reason he couldn’t grasp what it was.  
It was like a cloud was fogging his mind, covering something in a dense casing . . . too thick for Quatre to make his way
through it.  It took him a moment before he could put a finger on what it was.  “I can’t feel anyone else.  Not even you.”  He
said, a moment of fear passing through him.

Madam Pomfrey smiled gently.  “The potion I gave you will shield you for a time.  Your mind needs to rest and your own walls
need to be rebuilt.  If I should remove the block now, you would be overcome by the thoughts and feelings of everyone in this
school.  It will wear off slowly.  So don’t worry about anything besides resting.”

“How long have I been here?”  Quatre asked, his throat dry, sounding strained.

“Two days.”  Madam Pomfrey said, setting her hand on the side of his face.  “My, you are quite warm today, Quatre.  I’ll get
something to help you with that, as well as something for you to eat.  I think it’s about time you consumed something.”  A
moment later, she was gone.  Quatre hadn’t really noticed when she had gotten up, his mind still hazy at best.

An unknown amount of time later, Quatre could truly be sure of how long, someone lightly set a hand on his shoulder.  Quatre
opened eyes that he hadn’t realized were closed and found himself drifting in deep emerald pools.  He blinked, then smiled
faintly, the rest of Professor Potter’s face coming into focus for him . . . those eyes of his were sharper and more clear to
Quatre than anything else though.

“How are you doing, Mr. Winner?”  Professor Potter asked, setting a rather large and seemingly heavy bag on the floor.

Quatre opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Madam Pomfrey returned.  “Harry Potter, you’re not supposed to be in
here.”  She chided, as if he were just a student.  “Quatre is very ill and shouldn’t have close contact with too many people.”  
She set a tray of food on a table to the side, then crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Professor Potter.

“Oh, I heard he just passed out.”  The young professor replied.

“He did . . . but his condition is a bit more serious than that.  Empathic exhaustion is always a tender issue.”  Madam Pomfrey
said.  “However, since you are here, perhaps you can put yourself to some use.  Lend me a hand in sitting him up.”

Professor Potter nodded, pushing his hands under Quatre’s armpits, lifting his upper body while Madam Pomfrey placed a few
pillows behind Quatre’s back and head.  Then the dark-haired youth set Quatre back, smoothing out the blankets before he took
a step back.

Madam Pomfrey set the tray over Quatre’s lap.  Quatre blinked, blearily noticing that there were some vegetables as well as
meat on the plate.  Madam Pomfrey cut off a small piece of the meat, then lifted it to Quatre’s mouth.  Quatre turned away from
it, even though he didn’t want to seem rude.  

“I can’t eat that.”  Quatre whispered.

“Why?  Not hungry?  If you have no appetite, that is quite a serious side-effect.”  Madam Pomfrey rambled, starting to go over

Quatre weakly raised his hand.  “No, it’s not that.  I’m starving . . . I just can’t eat that meat.  It’s a pork chop.”

Madam Pomfrey looked at him curiously.  “Why ever not?  It’s just as good as any other food.”

Quatre shook his head.  “I’m a Muslim . . . I can’t.”

“A matter of religion, Madam Pomfrey.”  Professor Potter said.  Then he looked to Quatre. “One of your parents was Muslim?”

Quatre nodded.  “Yes, my father . . . he was a Muggle.”

“I’ll have a word with Professor Dumbledore concerning your food then.  He should be made aware of your particular
circumstances.”  The green-eyed youth said.

“Well, at least eat the vegetables.  It’ll do for now, but you’ll have to have something more substantial later.”  Madam Pomfrey
said, removing the slice of meat from the fork and getting Quatre to eat what was left on the plate.  When he was done, Madam
Pomfrey took the tray away, muttering to herself about Muggles and never understanding their various religions.

Professor Potter smiled at Quatre.  “Not all wizards follow religions.  Usually only those who were raised in Muggle families do.”

Quatre nodded in understanding.  Again anything he might have said was interrupted when Madam Pomfrey returned.  This
time, she only stayed long enough to set a cool compress over Quatre’s forehead and tilt a glass of water up for him to drink a
bit.  She set the glass, which still held some water, on the table beside the bed, glaring at Professor Potter.  “I don’t want you
staying too long.  He needs rest.”  She said.

“I won’t stay long.”  The Professor replied, smiling.  “I do have a class to instruct soon.”

Madam Pomfrey left rather quickly.  Quatre turned his attention to Professor Potter.  “You want to see me about something?  
My class work?  I know I’ll miss some, but I do intend to catch up.”  He said, not feeling quite so tired.  That food, as little as it
was, had left Quatre feeling a bit stronger than when he had first awakened.

Professor Potter smiled, shaking his head.  “No, it’s not that.  Well, actually it does concern your work.  I’ve decided to take it
upon myself to tutor you, Quatre . . . I can call you Quatre, can’t I?”

“Yes, by all means, Professor . . .”  

“Please, call me Harry.  I still can’t get used to being called ‘Professor’ . . . makes me sound much too old.”

Quatre nodded, feeling a tinge of blush coloring his cheeks.  “Okay . . . Harry.  But, why are you going to tutor me?”

“Well, I feel responsible for what happened to you in Potions class.  If I had been more forceful and gotten you to go to the
Hospital Wing when we crashed into each other in the hall, you might not be in such serious condition.  Consider this as my
way of making up for the mistake.  I’ll get your assignments straight from your teachers and help you catch up.  I hear you
already have a three-page essay due in Potions class.”  Harry responded.  “Snape always was a tough teacher.”

“Three pages?”  Quatre sighed.  “I guess I could use the help then.  Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.  I’ll come by to visit you again tomorrow as soon as I am free of classes.”  He said, then he paused and
smirked.  “You know, if you do get better before the end of next week, you should try out for Quidditch . . . you have the body
of a Seeker.”  Then he blinked, a blush staining his cheeks as he backed away.  “Good day, Quatre.”  He said, then hastily left
the room.

Quatre blinked.  Had a teacher just complimented his looks?  Quatre shook his head.  No, it couldn’t be.  It had just been an
offhand comment on his fitness for sports.  There was nothing more to it than that.  With a sigh, Quatre settled back, closing
his eyes to allow himself more rest.  Just because he felt stronger, didn’t mean he wasn’t tired.


Three days later, Quatre left the Hospital Wing.  He was healthy again, his mental blocks back in place and feeling a good deal
stronger than he had last week.  He still slipped every once in awhile, side-effects of losing control irritating him every now and

Professor Snape’s emotions sometimes drifted in to mix with his own and he found that the Potions Instructor cared nothing for
Professor Potter . . . hated him in fact.  Quatre had inadvertently picked up on that one day, when both Harry and Snape were in
the Hospital Wing with him at the same time.  Harry had been visiting, but Snape had needed medical attention due to a student’s
mistake in class . . . Snape’s hand was literally melting.  It was fixed, and Snape left the room in a rush, apparently not wanting
to be around either Harry or Quatre unless it was absolutely necessary.  The feelings had drifted from Quatre’s mind shortly
after the elder man had left the room.

Quatre sighed, adjusting his robes as he stood outside the Great Hall.  It was time for breakfast and Quatre did need to eat.  He
was just nervous about being around a crowd after days of being alone.  He was confident in his blocks, but feared that
something would happen.

“Quatre, it’s good to see you well.”  A voice said calmly, from behind him.

Quatre turned, casting a small smile to Trowa.  “The same could be said of you.”  Quatre commented, taking a moment to look
Trowa over.  He was glad to see that his friend was healthy again.

Trowa shrugged.  “I’m still a little sore, but the aches will pass with time.”  Trowa said.  “Come on, we should get in there
before we miss the meal.”

Quatre nodded.  “And why are you just getting here?”  He asked.

Trowa raised his hand, which held a book.  “Forgot my book.  I was going to lend it to Ginny today.  So I had to go back and
get it.”

“You and she seem to be getting along well.”  Quatre commented, forcing himself not to look around as they walked to the
table.  He just wanted to sit down without causing attention to himself, not wanting to be the center of attention.

Trowa nodded.  “Yeah.  She . . . well . . . I guess you could say she adopted me as a brother.  I find it nice to have a sister that
actually respects me for who I am and doesn’t judge me.”

“I am sorry about Catherine.  Perhaps things will work out between you someday.”  Quatre said, laying his hand on Trowa’s
arm in the hopes of consoling his friend.

“I hope so.”  Trowa said, casting a small smile to Quatre.  

They sat at the table, Trowa between Ginny and Duo.  Quatre took a seat beside Ginny with Heero on his other side.  He
blinked, taking note of the burns on Heero’s fingers, wondering what on earth had caused them.  “Heero, are you okay?”  He
asked, speaking quietly.

Heero turned to him, his face rather pale.  “I'm fine.”  He said, resuming his eating as he turned away.

Quatre didn’t think that Heero was telling the truth, but he also didn’t find himself willing to pester him for answers.  A soft
snickering caught Quatre’s ear and he looked up.  His eyes caught sight of a pale blonde, sitting at the Slytherin table.  The
young man was seated between Dorothy and Relena, his arms draped around either of their waists.  

Warmth flooded Quatre’s body as he looked at the strange young man, a deep yet strong sense of longing piercing his heart.  
No, these weren’t his emotions, Quatre thought . . . they were someone else’s.  He looked around, trying to find the source.  
There . . . at the teacher’s table, it was Snape.  Professor Snape was looking at that same pale blonde, his eyes focused intently
on every movement that he made.

Quatre lowered his head, closing his eyes as he forced the feelings back.  Feeling Professor Snape’s lust for a student was not
Quatre’s idea of fun.  He’d rather not experience other people’s emotions as his own, it was just tiring.  When Quatre raised his
head, his eyes were drawn to that pale blonde again.  If Quatre wasn’t mistaken, the pale blonde was pointing at him and
laughing rather cruelly.

“Oh, don’t mind him.”  Ginny soothed, setting her hand on Quatre’s arm.  “That’s just Draco Malfoy . . . bloody git.  He's a real
jerk.  Failed his courses last year . . . He’s damn lucky that Professor Dumbledore is a generous man, giving him a second
chance at graduating.”

Quatre nodded.  “Not a pleasant fellow I take it?”

Ginny laughed.  “Hell no!  He spent seven long years tormenting poor Harry Potter, as well as my brothers and me.  His father
was a Death Eater, working for the Dark Lord . . . scary bunch they are, kill both Muggles and Wizards without care.  Rumor
has it Draco will follow in his father’s footsteps after graduation.”

Quatre didn’t think he liked the sound of a ‘Death Eater’ but he didn’t know exactly what to ask about them.  He didn’t want to
bother Ginny for information.  Perhaps he would be able to find something on them in the library.

To Be Continued . . .