5. Enhanced Affinity

House strode ahead in his usual manner. "Symptoms?" he threw back at Snape.

Snape caught up with him with two quick steps. "Fever, diarrhoea. He collapsed when he tried to get up."

"Dizziness," House said. "What changed?"

"He's dying!" Snape snapped. "Isn't that enough change?"

House stopped short at the door of the isolation unit. "I mean, what explains these new symptoms?"

"You treating him," Snape said through pressed lips.

"We haven't started treating him yet," Cameron pointed out from behind them.

"Are we going to look at Professor Dumbledore's scans now?" Trelawney said enthusiastically.

"Sorry, we're going to do some real doctoring now," House said. "If you're really, really good and keep your mouth shut, maybe I'll let Foreman take you to Radiology for an hour's playtime after dinner." He swiped his card through the reader to open the door of the ward.

Dumbledore was lying in the bed, not sitting like on other visits, his face pale and his eyes closed, a nurse from the ICU hovering close by adjusting a drip. For the first time it seemed as though his claim that he was 120 years old might have some truth.

House looked down at Dumbledore, a frown on his face. "First he had something, then he had nothing for a long while, and now he has something again."

Dumbledore's eyes opened. "The ring … horcrux," he said faintly. "The boy … needs to know."

"Delirium," House noted. He picked up Dumbledore's wrist, feeling the faint pulse and noting the papery quality of the skin. "Fever's spiking at 105 degrees. If we don't find the cause for this, he'll be dead in less than a week. Given his age, I'll correct my estimate to two or three days. The patient history says he had headache, nausea and fever as initial symptoms along with the damage to his hand. Any other initial symptoms that you can remember? Confusion, dizziness?"

Snape made a visible effort to get his act together. "He was definitely confused, but what he did was so – so unlike him that I don't think it was a symptom; it was the cause. If he had been thinking clearly at that moment, he'd never have put on the ring."

House dropped Dumbledore's wrist. "Ring? What ring?"

"He was subjected to the curse when he put on the ring that he subsequently destroyed," Snape said carefully.

House took the patient file from the end of the bed. "The patient history says he was destroying the ring with a sword. Nowhere does it say that he wore it before destroying it."

"He preferred to keep that foolishness private; he knew it was a black magic artefact, so he should never have touched it, let alone worn it. I don't see what difference it makes, considering that you don't even believe in curses," Snape said, but with a hint of uncertainty.

"Idiots!" House yelled. "Morons! And they allow you to teach?"

He turned to his team. "Chelation with DTPA."

"You think it's radiation poisoning?" Foreman said, looking down at the inert old man. "And the hand?"

"Cutaneous radiation injury where the radioactive source touched his skin. God, what an idiot!"

"If the hand injury is from radiation, then he should be dead," Cameron pointed out. "Only a lethal dose could have produced so much damage."

"Could, should, would," House mimicked. "Acute radiation syndrome fits. Skin injuries where direct contact took place. Initial symptoms that subside, only to return after a latency period. He must have absorbed some of the radioactive material, and we need to get that out of his system."

"Judging by his symptoms the dose exceeded ten gray," Foreman said heavily. "He's dead."

"If the absorbed dose exceeded ten gray – and given the symptoms, I'll grant you that – he's still spectacularly alive after a prolonged period of time. Normally, patients die within two weeks. The fact that he's still alive is interesting."

"Or – he doesn't have radiation sickness," Foreman said.

"Do you have a better idea?" House looked around challengingly. No one replied. "We're treating him for radiation sickness. Foreman, start chelation. Take turns to monitor his condition. Let me know if anything changes." He nodded to Snape and left the unit.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked Foreman.

"We're treating him with DTPA. It binds the radioactive particles in his system, so that they can be passed out with his urine. It's very effective, so if the damage isn't irreversible yet, then he stands a good chance of leaving here alive," Cameron explained. "He could still die of the long-term effects of radiation, but given his age, that's a minor issue, I'd say."

"You say that this will cure him?" Snape asked, waving a hand at the drip that was hanging from the IV pole, not even trying to mask his disbelief.

"Something fairly similar, yes," Cameron said. "To speak in your language, the DTPA contains the curse and neutralises it."

"And his hand?"

Foreman sighed. "There's nothing we can do about that. But nowadays there are excellent prosthetics. As soon as he's stabilised, we'll amputate, and then Ortho can fit him with a prosthetic. Quality of life can be excellent with a good … ."

"It's his wand hand," Snape said.

Foreman rolled his eyes as he took the chelation drip from the nurse. "He's lucky to be alive."

"Without his wand hand he'll be in grave danger. He won't be able to defend himself adequately. You may not realise it here on your Muggle island of blissful ignorance, but the magical world is at war, and Dumbledore is at the very centre of that war!"

"Then," Cameron said, "he'll have to ask for help."

––––––––––––––––––-

Wilson sat down on the visitor's chair in House's office and leaned back. "I hear you cured the Big Chief of the Way of Whacko, making Cuddy very happy. The whole department released from clinic duty for four weeks!" He shook his head at so much unmerited bounty.

"Whacko donated enough to keep the clinic up and running for the next millennium, so I consider myself cheated," House said, looking up from the file he was reading and taking off his glasses. He folded them, slipped them into his shirt pocket and rose, stretching.

"You made a good deal: rumour has it that Cuddy by-passed the board in order to assign another team member to Diagnostics."

"Don't believe rumours unless you started them," House said, casting a look into the conference room where someone was still sitting in front of the computer despite the late hour. "She's a volunteer. She isn't costing Cuddy a cent. And she has no formal training."

"She seems very dedicated," Wilson said, squinting through the glass door separating the rooms.

"Yeah, we lock her up in the conference room at night and release her in the morning. Saves caging costs," House said. "Chase feeds her every now and then and takes her for walks to Radiology."

He went to the door of the conference room. "Trelawney, I'm leaving," he said.

"Good night, Dr House," she said vaguely. "I'll be done soon, too. There's this wonderful angio, I think you call it, of a baby that I still want to interpret."

"You know the rules?" House asked.

Trelawney sighed. "Rule 1: Don't talk to the patient!" she parroted. "Rule 2: Don't talk to patients' families."

"Those are Cuddy's rules. I don't care whom you talk to, but if you touch any of the bottles in my desk, you'll join that innocent infant in the nether world."

"Dr House, I'd never … !"

House shut the door on her indignation. Ignoring Wilson's quizzical stare, he limped over to his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "She told a patient, an eight year old, that he was terminal. Cuddy freaked. She was not pacified by Trelawney's dramatic style of delivery or her diagnostic accuracy."

"Odd," Wilson said. "You'd think that Cuddy would be delighted to have another one of you upsetting patients and causing law suits. Who is this weird bird and why are you keeping her?"

House shrugged. "Her previous owners didn't seem to want her. She's amusing. And she's right … mostly, that is."

"Another endearing quality that Cuddy undoubtedly loves." Wilson took a last look at Trelawney as they walked past the conference room towards the elevators. "Odd sense of style."

House smiled to himself. "She doesn't like lab coats."

"I'm beginning to sense what attracts you," Wilson said. "Someone with authority issues whose mode of rebellion includes painful honesty and a total disregard for dress codes."

"You wrong her," House said. "She has no idea of the havoc she's wreaking; she sincerely believes that she's doing society a favour by opening the eyes of the ignorant and refusing to bow to the strictures of fashion."

"Which was my point," Wilson said.

As they walked through the lobby, Cuddy intercepted them, holding out an envelope. "House, I need you to look at something."

"I'm off the clock," House said. "My patient is being released tomorrow, I'm told."

"Just open it."

"First class ticket to Scotland," House said, staring at the ticket as though it could bite.

Cuddy simpered. "They've invited you to visit them. You have no patient, no clinic duty."

"Oh, clinic duty would definitely stop me!" House said.

"Just – go! You'll enjoy it." She patted his arm before disappearing into the clinic area again.

House slid the ticket back into the envelope and, after a moment's hesitation, put it into his backpack.

"You'll go?" Wilson asked as they headed through the doors.

House hesitated. "I might."

"You're going to stay with a bunch of people who believe in an alternate reality for which there is no scientific proof whatsoever?"

"They have great wands," House said. "And by 'wands' I mean … ."

"Do you really believe that these people can do magic?" Wilson asked point blank. "Do you think that guy was cursed?"

"No, he definitely had acute radiation syndrome, and chelation cured him, not those potions made of glibber and greens. But … ." House's jaw worked. "I still don't know how Snape contained the symptoms for so long and why Dumbledore survived at all."

"Besides," he said as he limped out into the dark, "I need one of those pretty little wands."

The End

A/N: A big thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I'm grateful that you took the time.