Finally, a genuine smile began to spread across Gellert's face. "I am told that it was likely the sole contributing factor to my recovery," he said, his fingers stilling their movement on the sheets. "Were it not for your suggestion, I may well have been dead today."
He tilted his head slightly more in Remus's direction. "Where did you learn of such a procedure?" he asked. "Certainly it is not taught in the curriculum, or the Healing staff would have known of it."
Remus and Gellert may have had very little in common, but there was one thing--they both had a desire to learn that was so fierce, so overpowering, that it threatened to consume their very beings. At Durmstrang, Gellert'd had no need for what the professors had taught. Instead he had spent his focus in the library, or with the professors during their office hours, or with his own experiments. He had learned far more that way than he ever could have hoped had he limited himself to the prescribed curriculum. Perhaps Remus was not quite so advanced as to find all that his teachers taught useless and repetitive of things he'd known since childhood, but the rest of it was there. Gellert knew. It was why he had taken such a special interest in Remus in the first place.