--I debate about posting my stories sometimes. I give myself far too many projects to finish. But at least the writing comes in a nice steady stream, even if it never gets finished.

But this story is something I've been wanting to write. Disability and illness has run rampant in my family and in my life for as long as I can remember. Cancer and mental illnesses and all sorts of disorders are in my family blood. I went to a small town high school and some of my most poignant memories were of disabled children, usually mentally disabled kids, being teased and harassed. This list of kids included me. I remember also one kid who was so overweight because of a thyroid problem that he could barely walk. They laughed at him, threw pennies and food at him, and the teachers avoided helping him if they could. He was always the first they admonished for doing something wrong. I swear there were times when I was growing up that I had pyromaniacal urges towards my school that I could only fulfill in my science and welding classes.

Hopefully this story will help me with the healing aspect of being disabled.

I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. And I am not ashamed, nor should I be. Nobody should be made to feel ashamed of themselves for what isn't their fault. That is what this story is about.

-Widdershins-

Light sparkled across the clear glass windows of Number 4 Privet Drive, sending cascades of rainbow colors across the little rooms of the house, reflecting off of glass ornaments and portraits and blending into dazzling beams of light which were reflected in every smooth surface.

But unfortunately this sparkling effect was entirely wasted upon Harry Potter, who was laying face first in his bed, with a blanket over his head, moaning. Disused tissues lay strewn over the bedspread, spilling over onto the carpet and into the very full waste paper basket next to his bed. The curtains were drawn in as tightly as they could possibly be, but for some reason the bright light of late morning just could not be kept out of his room.

Down in the kitchen Aunt Petunia was humming merrily as she made lunch. Although her workload had increased under the onslaught of the sudden sickness of her son and nephew, she seemed the least bit perturbed by it. The fact that a teenage wizard could get a normal head cold, keeping Harry well out from under foot, seemed to make her even happier than normal.

But Harry wasn't happy. He was miserable. And he wasn't so sure that this head cold was in any way normal. Without a pepper-up potion to clear up his aching sinuses, without any sort of magical cure for his exhaustion at fighting this illness, he was trapped. Trapped at the Dursleys until somebody with some sense of mercy came to rescue him. Trapped in the cycle of headaches and alternately running and stuffy noses, the tightness of his chest and breathing passages, the relentless coughing and aching joints. Trapped.

But Arthur Weasley's missive had been all too clear.

I'm sorry Harry, but with us busy with wedding preparations and all the noise and chaos of this house we think its best for you to stay at home. With something like this ailment you described it is best just to wait it out and we've all agreed that you're probably better off where you are. Take the Muggle pills that their doctor prescribed for you and try to get some rest. We'll be there to get you the moment the DeLacours have left and the house is back to a normal schedule. We're sorry you couldn't come, but maybe Hermione will drop by your house for a visit.

Arthur

Harry's sickness had put an end to all their plans to escape their families this summer and go Horcrux hunting. Even now Harry was wondering if they'd ever get the seemingly monumental task completed.

At least Voldemort hasn't made any sudden moves against the Ministry. I wonder if he's sick too?

The image of Voldemort in bed with crumpled tissues all around him and an ice pack on his head made Harry grin.

It wasn't too bad being sick. At least the Dursleys were being marginally nicer to him. Nothing magical had occurred to him. And whenever Dudley took sick Aunt Petunia gave him chicken soup and he would sleep quietly in his own room, which kept him away from Harry. Aunt Petunia had now been bringing them both trays of soup and sweetened tea on a regular basis. She seemed not the least bit put out by this and Harry was grateful for it.

Takes me getting laid out on my back sick for her to care even a shred. But I'll take it for all its worth. She seems to enjoy caring for sick people. Maybe because its easier then preparing a full course meal.

Dudley's whining and complaints could be heard almost constantly and so Uncle Vernon mostly did yard work outside, a fact that Harry was grateful for since Uncle Vernon was miserably grouchy lately, even more so than Dudley.

Maybe Hermione will come and visit...though I wouldn't want her to get sick too. In fact I should write her and tell her not to risk it. We can start researching Horcruxes during the school year. I bet Hogwarts' restricted section has loads of information hidden away somewhere. Where else would Riddle have discovered them?

Thinking about Horcruxes had taken up most of his days, and all of his dreams. But as much as he thought and dreamed about Horcruxes, any solution to the problem of finding them was short circuited. He was starting to admit, vaguely, that maybe he needed outside help.

And so he had owled Remus Lupin, if only to give Hedwig something to do this summer.

Hi Remus,

I just wanted to let you know I'm down for the count, this bronchitis is horrid. Don't come near Privet drive, whatever you do, we're all contagious here.

I have a few puzzles I've been trying to riddle out on Dumbledore's orders and I've been grasping at some straws. Although he made me promise to keep most things secret, he let me confide in Ron and Hermione. So I figure I can cross check things with you and you can keep Hermione and Ron in the know about it too. We three, together, are so far stumped.

This first riddle has to concern with somebody who fought against You-Know-Who. He (or she?) had the initials R.A.B. Possibly this person is dead. Do you know who that might refer to? Hermione had been researching into this a bit before school ended but we're still stumped. Too many R.A.B's!

I know I should be resting, but you know me, I can't get this stuff out of my head. If you have any suggestions, just let me know, and make sure Hermione and Ron know since they aren't sick and they can do further research if they need to. They've been owling Madam Pince for research materials over the summer, since Dumbledore told her we could do that before...well you know.

I hope things are going all right with the Old Gang, is everything okay? Anything bad happen? Anything good? Let me know so at least I don't have to worry so much.

See you soon, I hope!

Harry

So now he was in bed, sick, waiting for a response from Lupin, and all the while pondering the mystery of R.A.B., The Horcruxes and the whole bit.

"Mum," Harry heard Dudley whine from the next room. "I feel really horrible."

"You'll be all right Diddy-Dums," said Aunt Petunia brightly. "Have some more soup."

"Not hungry," Dudley complained. "Make my stomach stop hurting!"

Oh now that was a bad sign if ever there was one. Harry heard a sort of commotion coming from Dudley's room as Aunt Petunia tried to haul him into the loo to throw up.

Now hold on...this is bronchitis. Why would Dudley be vomiting?

"Goodness Dudders you're putting on some extra weight. You aren't snacking on junk food when you're supposed to be resting, are you?"

"No Mum," Dudley complained. "I can't eat anything, I feel horrible!"

"I'll have to call the doctor and see what we can do," Aunt Petunia said. "Back to bed now and sleep."

"No, wanna go to the doctor now!"

Harry heard Vernon stomp up the stairs and heard his grouchy complaint.

"Great Scott Dudley you are putting on weight! Is everything all right Petunia?"

"I'm sure everything is fine...to bed Dudley!"

Harry was now beyond curious. He pulled himself out of bed with many aching groans and stumbled to the hallway to peer out at the scene.

Aunt Petunia was trying desperately to keep Dudley standing up but was having trouble. Uncle Vernon tried to help her, but then had fell over himself. Harry found himself staring at Dudley in alarm, eyes as wide as his cousin's upon spotting him.

"No human is able to gain that much weight in just a few days!" said Harry. "What is wrong with you Dudley!?"

Dudley was huge. His face looked beyond pudgy. He was now so bloated he looked like a beached whale. Petunia suddenly looked highly alarmed.

"Its your fault!" she cried, pointing her finger at Harry. "This is your doing somehow!"

"Its not my fault!" said Harry, coughing and holding his chest. "Wizards can barely do any magic at all when we're sick, we have no energy! I couldn't even say a simple wand lighting spell this morning! No energy means no magic at all!"

But Dudley looked enormous. He started crying and it was the seriousness of the situation that Vernon didn't complain about Harry's talk of magic.

"Back to bed with you," he said, pointing at Harry. "We're going to take Dudley to the hospital. This can't be normal. Not with bronchitis."

Harry stared as the two Dursleys tried to lift their son and help him down the stairs. By the time they got him down they were too exhausted both of them to drive or even move for the moment, and Dudley had swelled even more in proportion.

"I said go to bed!" Vernon roared at Harry from the bottom of the stairs. "Don't stare at him like he's a..."

Freak? Harry wanted to say, but instead he smirked. "Want me to call the ambulance from the phone in the guest bedroom?" he asked, since Dudley's whole girth filled the stairwell and made going down to the living room impossible.

"Well...yes all right," said Vernon. "Hurry up about it!"

Harry nodded, and turned to head into the guest bedroom. The phone was old and slightly disused. Aunt Marge always unplugged it when she visited so it wouldn't ring while she napped. But Aunt Petunia sometimes liked to come in here and call her friends without being disturbed by anybody. Now Harry lifted the receiver and dialed the emergency number with a feeling of disturbance in his chest.

Maybe he had caused Dudley to get sick. Maybe something was wrong with his magic because of his sickness and it had effected Dudley? If that were true, he had to leave the Dursleys, there was no question about it. He couldn't let his magic hurt other people, even if they were the Dursleys.

"St. Mungos hospital," said a female voice suddenly in his ear. "How can I be of assistance?"

"St Mungos?" asked Harry, staring at the phone. "But I called the Muggle hospital!"

"You're a wizard child, if you call any sort of emergency number you will always be redirected here. Please state the nature of the emergency and we can redirect you if needed."

"My cousin Dudley is getting very sick," said Harry, and he quickly described the situation and his fear that this swelling sickness might be his fault.

"We'll send an emergency ambulance to your residence right away. You are correct in thinking this could be a magical problem, but no it would not be your fault. A wizard as severely ill as you sound could not possibly have caused such a problem. Magical sickness can hit Muggles from time to time without their knowing it and we try to keep it covered up as best as we can."

"Oh," said Harry. "All right thanks. Any chance I can go to St. Mungos to? I don't want to be here sick at home...alone."

"We'll bring your whole family. This sort of thing is contagious."

Harry thanked her then hung up the phone. He went out to the stairwell and breathed at deep sigh.

Now the hard part. Telling his Uncle Vernon that they would be going to a wizard hospital.

But neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia seemed to be angry about this. Nor did they blame Harry. Dudley was now big enough that he was stuck in the stairwell, his face almost fully engulfed in his own pudgy flesh. He glowered at Harry under the folds of skin, but then blinked, and his eyes widened.

"Did you know your nose is bleeding?" he said, pointing a fat finger at Harry.

Both Vernon and Petunia jerked there heads in time to see the dribble of blood that ran down Harry's nose. Harry touched the droplets of red with his fingers and pulled them down to stare at them and the crimson stain there.

It was then that vertigo finally hit him and he dropped to the floor in a shivering lurching ball.

Upon watching her nephew faint, bleeding from the nose, Aunt Petunia squealed and climbed quickly over Dudley to climb the stairs and go to him. Heaven forbid anything horrible happen to the boy on her watch, not with the agreement she had made with those wizards that she would look after him.

Harry was shaking and twitching. His eyes were dilated and blood was dribbling down his nose to his cheek and chin.

"Where is that ambulance?" she cried. "Vernon go check outside!"

But the ambulance didn't stop at their house from the road. It drove magically right through the wall and landed inside the living room with a lurch, knocking aside the furniture and tracking skid marks on the carpet. Two wizards popped out of the doors of the ambulance. Both wizards were glowing with a blue light that Petunia tried to place the source of. Then she realized that it must have been a spell of some kind. She quickly lifted her nephew, he was so light, and carried him down the stairs where the two men were examining Dudley, amidst Vernon's angry complaints about the carpet and the furniture.

"Well what have we here?" said the first man, ignoring Vernon. "Looks like a normal swelling spell, but with this sickness of his it could also be...the curse. We'll have to take him to St. Mungos."

"Curse?" said Vernon with a squawk. "Dudley's been cursed?"

"Oh yes," said the wizard, pulling out his wand to light it and examine Dudley's ears. "Its been going around all over the place, mainly children, effects them the worse. No cure, not yet anyways."

"No cure??" Vernon shouted. "My son is sick with this wizard magic stuff and you don't know how to fix him?? What good is magic for if you can't fix him!"

"Now just calm down," said the wizard. "We don't have a cure yet, but we're working on one right now."

"My, but what is wrong with this boy?" said the second wizard, pointing to Harry.

The first wizard pulled out his wand to examine him and clean up the bloody nose. The wizard cast a spell on Harry, some sort of diagnosis spell perhaps. Upon being touched with the magic Harry began to lurch and twitch in violent spasms, blood coming up out of his nose.

"He's got the curse too Ralph," said the first man, shaking his head. "What is his name?"

"Harry Potter," said Vernon gruffly. "My nephew."

"Harry Potter?!" said the one named Ralph. "Good God!!"

"Yes," said Petunia, looking annoyed at the two men, who were now blanched white. "Why?"

"Oh no, no matter," said Ralph nervously, and he turned back to Dudley. "Now then, no need to feel alarm, you'll be lifted like you were flying, right into the ambulance and we'll put a feather light charm on your so you won't feel your own weight. Much easier this way. John? Think we need to expand the ambulance?"

"Might be a good idea," said John, when they tried, and failed, to fit Dudley inside it. "The Healers will know best how to further treat him," said 'John', who was concentrating very hard with his wand now as they leveraged poor Dudley into the ambulance, where he was wedged in there neatly like a jello into a mold. "Now about young Harry..."

"No use for it, John, we can't take off the spell. Gotta get him into the ambulance quickly, they'll bring a gurney and a nurse maybe to help him."

Both wizards put on gloves, likewise glowing blue with the same spell that was on them both, then bent down to touch Harry gently with their hands and lift him. Harry's green eyes opened and he lurched the moment the magic touched him.

"Hi Mum," said Harry deliriously. "Missed you."

"Oh no I'm not your Mum," said Ralph. "I'm the ambulance attendant and I'm a man!"

"Can I have a chocolate frog?" asked the boy, looking sorrowful.

"No, no magical objects I'm afraid. We'll have to put you in the front seat with us away from your charmed cousin."

"Now we'll give you directions for driving to St. Mungo's so you can meet us there," said Ralph to Vernon. "There's a trick to getting in..."

"I know how to get there!" Petunia said suddenly, feeling rather annoyed with the two men now, "My sister was a witch you know!"

Suddenly Petunia wished she could be a witch too, so she could blast both wizards into next Wednesday. What kind of morons were these men, who had thought hurting her nephew was a better idea than risking their own skin to whatever this curse was? And what about Dudley, wedged inside the ambulance like a sardine, they weren't exactly going to pains to make him comfortable!

"Well then, right right," said the man named John nervously. "We'll just be going along then, no worry ma'am, no worry. We'll find the cure eventually, yes sir, but until then they'll be in quarantine at St. Mungos. Can't have it getting around."

Oh. They must have been waiting to tell them this once the boy was in the ambulance out of hearing range. Petunia watched forlornly as the wizard ambulance flew back through the wall. She turned to look at Vernon, who looked highly disturbed as the mess of their living room was suddenly instantly cleaned up and put back to rights. This was why she hated Wizards. They didn't want to explain how anything they did worked, and they always created chaos and destruction everywhere they went. She hated to think of her Dudley all alone in that horrible flying ambulance! What if it crashed? And Harry! He may have been a wizard himself, but he was a boy, a dying sick boy! She may not have ever liked Harry, but he was still human.

"Er, Petunia," said Vernon, looking a sickly shade of green. "You don't think this has to do with that...er...Voldewarts business that Dumbledore bloke told us about, do you?"

"Why ever would you think of that?" Petunia snapped, very horrified by all that had happened.

"Well, it just seems, uncanny, that we're supposed to protect the boy because of all this, and then, they just happened to recognize who he is and all that. I mean, how did they both get sick with this thing if they've been here at home all summer?"

"Yeah, I suppose...I suppose," Petunia said, flushed. "I'm going to get the boy's owl and send a letter to those people telling them what happened. They should have come to get him in the first place, he might not have gotten himself and Dudley sick if he'd been with his lot to start with! I'm not entirely convinced that this isn't his fault!"

"Good idea," said Vernon. "I'll go start the car."

Petunia went up to the bedroom and found the owl waiting with a parchment envelope for Harry in her beak.

"He's gone to the hospital," she told the bird, hoping the owl would understand. "I need to write to his friends to tell them where he's gone."

The owl dropped the envelope and flew over to Harry's desk, where his papers and ink pot was. Petunia went over to the desk and wrote a letter, remembering that she was now sending letters to 'The Weasleys' instead of that 'Dumbledore' fellow, and the owl willingly took the letter away.

"Now...to Dudley's room for his things."

But she was now curious. What was in the letter that the owl had brought to Harry? Vernon's comment about Voldemort had her thinking. Why would the boy be getting mail if he were sick? Why would he be getting mail if he were in danger and was in hiding? She was highly confused and curious, and finally reached out for the parchment and opened it, feeling invasive but feeling that she needed answers to anything, anything at all that could tell her what was wrong with her son and nephew.

This letter was from a man named Remus Lupin.

Harry,

Things have not been well on our end, to be honest. Hogwarts is closed for good now and with due cause. Voldemort had developed a weapon, a sort of biological spell that is hitting children and nobody knows the cure for it, only that the spell's final target seems to be you Harry. Voldemort is trying to get you infected with this thing by having it spread around.

Whatever the case, this is the reason why we haven't come to get you. If you were to catch this illness then all hope will be lost. Its safer for you to stay locked up at the Dursleys for the summer if it means you won't be exposed to anyone who might be carrying this virus. Voldemort is bound to know that you go to the Weasleys during the summers so he might have targeted you there as well. I know this is rough on you Harry, but you are the Chosen One, and if you were to die I'm sure that Voldemort would take control of the Wizarding World, and then after that the Muggle world as well. Its time to live up to that responsibility, no matter how terrible it seems.

Voldemort has already started his plans for world domination. The new Muggle Prime Minister that was elected is really a wizard with pro-Voldemort leanings. He's already starting to draft laws that would make it harder and harder for Muggles to lead their normal lives. Strict curfews and heavy fines for minor offenses, the sorts of things that many dictators start with to start keeping people under their thumbs. Replacing important people in governing positions with wizards. Removing memory charms on muggles who have had their memories modified in order to slowly leak the existence of magic out to the world. Revealing their own powers to supporting muggle politicians with promises that they can share in on the wealth. Plans are in motion to inform the whole Muggle world about the existence of wizards, and to instate wizard supremacy over the world. Muggles don't out number us as much as we like to make on, and in recent years we've been finding it harder and harder to hide in society.

Lets hope that countries outside of England can bring about a proper fight against this. Lets hope we can fight off Voldemort and destroy him once and for all. You have the information about how to do this I assume. Dumbledore entrusted his secrets to you. Any help I can give you in any capacity I will do. It is all that I can do.

As for the mysterious R.A.B. well I have in mind that this could refer to Regulus Arcturus Black, Sirius Black's brother. He was once a Death Eater, but he was the first Death Eater spy for the Order of the Phoenix before Snape, and he fought against Voldemort...to his death. Perhaps he's the person these initials mean. Is this somehow involved in Voldemort's undoing? I won't question further if you'd rather not say, but Regulus and I knew each other well through Sirius and I could answer any questions you may have about him.

Please don't feel that you are restricted to only Ron and Hermione for help. Although you have made a promise to keep Dumbledore's instructions secret, a time may come when you may have to confide in others. A time may come when you will need us to know. But for now I respect the secret you are keeping, and I hope that you will soon find the good health you need to fulfill your obligations.

With friendship,

Remus J. Lupin.

Petunia re-read the letter several times, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. Suddenly the swelling of her son seemed so much less important than the nosebleed of her nephew. Suddenly she wished she had been a better aunt, a better foster mother and a better friend to Harry.

Suddenly she wished she had been a better sister to Lily.

She folded the letter back into the envelope, knowing that she would have to give it to the boy, he needed this information she was sure of it, then packed it and some clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste into a suitcase for him, as well as a suitcase for Dudley, and carried them down to the car where Vernon was waiting. It wasn't the best she could have done for Harry, but it was a start. Whether it was too late for such gestures would soon be decided.

But at least now she knew. The fate of England rested on her nephew's shoulders. It was all she could do not to curl up in the passenger seat and cry for all the terrible things she had done to Harry. She couldn't help but feel that somehow, no matter how absurd it seemed, that this was all her fault.