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Chapter 8 - The Infection

"Healer Dumphries, is it possible for a wizard to dream something into reality? I mean, the dreams I had earlier this month felt absolutely real."

The healer's first impulse was to put Harry's mind at ease but a nagging suspicion was taking shape; if he was right there was more here than either he or his patient was ready for.

"RPL Evans," the healer said using Harry's auror recruit nom de guerre "there are no real consequences from a magical person's dreams."

Harry seemed to sigh in relief.

"Did you know that when a person sleeps, most of his body is paralyzed? The only things that normally move are the eyes; which is where we get the term 'rapid eye movement.' REM sleep means we are dreaming." Seeing Harry nod Hlr Dumphries continued, "With witches and wizards our magical cores are similarly locked, paralyzed as it were, to keep us from performing accidental magic while dreaming. A powerful sorcerer could cause unspeakable damage if his magic were released in response to a nightmare."

That was welcome news to Harry, he distinctly remembered not being able to move during his encounters with his dream lover; and he told the healer this.

"The fact that you remember the liaisons so vividly may just be because you haven't had dreams of the type before, and as you have little or no experience being intimate with anyone, the intense feelings experienced during the 'encounters' were burned into your conscious mind."

"Funny thing, though. . ."

"Yes?"

"That last night I could move. I could and did move around quite a bit. . ."

At this last bit Harry smiled nervously at the memories.

"That's very unusual, but not unheard of. Tell me, how are you feeling now?"

"I'm fine, just, when I think about it, I feel a bit of nausea, but then it passes and I'm fine again."

As Harry was describing his symptoms the healer drew three small potions bottles from a convenient cabinet.

"This one's for nausea" he said as he vigorously shook one bottle before handing it to Harry "tilt your head back and throw it to the back of your throat to avoid the taste."

Harry nodded and did as directed; he must have missed a little as he grimaced from the bitter suspension.

"See what happens when you don't follow your healer's directions?" He smirked, "now this one is a nutrient potion to carry you through lunch, don't worry, it tastes like a pudding."

Harry quickly complied smiling at the taste.

"And this one is just to put our minds as ease, it's a revealing potion and it will let us know if you have magically bonded to anyone in the past month or so."

"And what does this one taste like?"

"Like a bitter truth."

"Do all medicines have to taste like. . ."

"Careful, you don't want a self-fulfilling divination."

Harry nodded and this time managed to get the potion past the back of his tongue so that he couldn't taste it at all.

Healer Dumphries smiled in satisfaction and cleared Recruit Platoon Leader 'Evans' for duty.

"How long before the last one takes, and how will we know if I'm bonded to anyone?"

"You'll feel disoriented, followed by mild cramps and anxiety and a need to go to your bondmate."

"But I'm not, I mean I can't be, right?"

"Well if you don't have a mate, in the bonded sense, you'll probably start looking at your nice-looking yeoman in a slightly different light."

Harry looked puzzled.

"It'll act as a fairly strong aphrodisiac. Just remember to keep a safe distance from any of your female fellow recruits and you should be fine."

Harry groaned.

"Where to then Repple?" Marietta asked, meeting up with him as he left the infirmary.

"Cleared for duty so back to the training field, I want to see how the troops are doing with those combinations."

"Right" the yeoman agreed while pulling a small memorandum book and pencil from her robes.

Harry couldn't help but admire her efficiency, not on the same order as Hermione, but then again, who was? Very well-organized nonetheless, she always had that memo book with her and was constantly making entries - she had admitted to being somewhat disorganized in the past and she found she could use her memos to compensate. It was working spectacularly well and Harry quickly found his yeoman to be indispensable.

Maybe the last potion had kicked in but Harry was sure he hadn't noticed how attractive Marietta had become, he certainly hadn't noticed in school. Now though, she walked with confidence and self-assurance, not content to be in anyone's shadow. Two months of rigorous physical conditioning didn't hurt either; she could match him kilometer for kilometer during their morning 'stroll around the parade grounds,' and, Harry suspected, she could probably run him into the ground if it ever came to a test.

She wore her long, light brown hair in a ponytail or a plait tucked under her training robe or tied in a severe bun on the back of her head and her face had a fresh-scrubbed, healthy appearance all the time, even when their training included dust and grime and mud.

"I learned a face cleansing charm after, well, you know, the 'sneak' incident."

Harry told her not to worry about it, that no one held it against her anymore.

"Oh, Harry, you really don' get it, do you?"

She sighed at his puzzled expression.

"You have a rare gift; the gift o' forgiveness. When you forgive someone, no matter what it is they have done, they are truly in your eyes forgiven. You don' hold a grudge you don' bring up past transgressions and you don' fling old wrongs in people's faces."

"Why would anyone want to do that?"

"Because people are small and weak and petty and holding on to past wrongs gives them a power o'er the offenders."

"Seems to me that would make for a right bitter outlook, always waiting to bring up some past wrong to what? Make a point? Win an argument? Sounds like the right way to lose a friend."

Marietta looked around to make sure no one was within hearing distance "Harry, are we friends?"

Harry looked baffled by the question, "of course we're friends, you and me and Baxter and Smythe are all mates" he saw her bottom lip quiver, "all right Marietta?"

"If we weren't on the parade ground I'd kiss you right now. I'm giving you fair warning Repple; liberty weekend is coming up in three days and I'm going to take you out and prove to you how special you are."

Four weeks had passed and the embryo was now well and truly attached to its home for the next thirty two weeks; its very own uterine wall. Cells from both mother and embryo combined to form the proto umbilicus, the beginning of the physical connection between mother and developing child. The embryo was now a true fetus.

A faint fuchsia glow began to radiate outward from the cells that were forming the tiny spinal cord; this was the beginning of a magical core and it was the purest form of innocence, fundamentally incorruptible. As the glow began to permeate the mother's body the black magic that had been infecting her soul was forced back into the deepest recesses of her being.

Bellatrix awakened in horror. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she got there. She was in an awful place surrounded by monsters in human form and she frantically needed to escape. She was contaminated. She had a malady that could easily be lethal for her in her present environment.

Bellatrix Lestrange was infected with innocence.