Detention at Hogwarts is described as one of the worst experiences in a wizard's life, or so said the Ravenclaw prefect after Hiccup had been sorted. At the time, he never imagined that he would be standing in the dungeons by torchlight, but after a month at the school of witchcraft and wizardry, that's exactly where he found himself. So far, it wasn't looking cheery.
Three other students stood behind him, but he drowned out their viperous arguing as he gaped at the rows of cauldrons before them. A night's worth of manual scrubbing had been assigned, and by the light of the torches mounted on the grungy stone walls, the array of dingy cauldrons pulsed and swayed ominously.
"You pull anything funny, Frost, and I'll make sure you can't fly on your broomstick for a month!"
"I doubt you could, but I'd love to see you try."
"Don't tempt me!"
Hiccup turned around to face the two quarreling students: one, a Gryffindor with an enormous mass of fiery red hair that swayed as she shook her fists, the other, a slim Slytherin with snow white hair, gazing down at the other with a big, pearly white grin. For a moment Hiccup stared at the two, who seemed as different as night and day. The girl's face was aflame with anger, scrunched into a scowl that said that she was ready to tackle the other, while the Slytherin's smile grew wider and wider across his pale face as she became angrier. The two had begun fighting as soon as the caretaker, Argus Filch, came to collect them.
"You know why you're a Gryffindor?" the Slytherin chimed. "Because the sorting hat mistook you for a lion due to that mane of yours! You should have been a Hufflepuff!"
Rage exploded in the girl's blue eyes, and before Hiccup could blink, a terrible cry tore from her throat as she lunged at the Slytherin. They fell to the floor, red flashing between black robes.
"I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!"
The third student, a wide eyed Hufflepuff, stood behind them, frozen in shock. A blonde braid thicker than Hiccup's torso swung behind her. She wetted her pink lips nervously, flinching every time a blow found its mark. The caretaker watched with a twisted smile, looking up from under his greasy, stringy hair. Filch made no attempt to intervene between the two.
The Gryffindor grappled with the Slytherin, rolling him onto his backside and pinning him to the ground. She rained punches on him, roaring so loudly that Hiccup thought the walls would shake. The echoes of her screams piled atop each other and thundered across the dungeon.
"I'll break in your stupid white teeth! Let's see if you'll be laughing then! Let's see if you bleed gold like the rest of your filthy house!" Hiccup ran to pull them apart.
"No wait wait wait, stop!" he yelled. He stooped to grab her, but the Gryffindor pushed him off easily and used her elbow to drive the wind from the Slytherin's chest. The air from the white haired boy left him and he gasped, eyes wide, for breath. As if coming to her senses, the Hufflepuff gave a start and rushed to the Slytherin's aid.
"Stop it Merida, stop! You're really hurting him!" she shrieked. The Gryffindor paid no mind as the Hufflepuff pulled desperately at her shoulders. Again and again she brought down her curled fist, grunting from the force of the impact against the Slytherin's raised arms.
"You—" the Gryffindor brought down her fist.
"Have—" Again.
"Pushed—" Again.
"Me—" Again.
"For—" The blows became harder.
"The—" Harder.
"Last—" Harder.
She brought down both fists with her full weight.
"TIME!"
Blood sprung from the Slytherin's face in a wave, gushing to the floor. Merida pushed herself up and wiped her hands on her robes, breathing heavily from exertion. Beneath her the boy curled in on himself, covering his bloody face unsuccessfully with his hands.
"Merida! How could you?" the Hufflepuff fell to her terms knees. Nearby, beside a torch, Filch's twisted grin widened to swallow his dirty face. "Why would you ever do something like this, Merida? Why?" Gently, the Hufflepuff took the Slytherin's face in her hands, peeling away his own so she could look at the damage. Both eyes were angrily red, his nose was crushed, and his lip almost looked forked from the severity of the split.
"We have to get him to the hospital wing. Right now." Hiccup told the Hufflepuff. She shook her head.
"Help me undo my braid," she instructed.
"Help you—Excuse me? He's badly injured, we don't have time to do your hair!" he replied incredulously. She didn't move. The yellow-clad student reached behind her back to pull at the bow holding together her golden hair. Quickly, her hands moved skillfully to unweave the shiny locks.
"What, are you doing?" Hiccup breathed. He shook his head vigorously, even attempted to take the boy himself, but the Hufflepuff held out a hand to block him. Frustrated, Hiccup whirled around, running his hands through his brown, unkempt hair. "What are they doing? What are they all doing!" His robes swished as he paced. "He needs to go to the Hospital Wing. He needs to see Madame Pomfrey. What is she doing?" He couldn't believe his ears when he heard soft singing coming from the Hufflepuff.
"Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine…"
When he turned, the air stuck in his throat. Hiccup could feel the muscles in his neck tensing. Before him, the Hufflepuff had wrapped her golden hair around the ruin of the Slytherin's face, and as she sang, it began to beam like the sun.
"Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine." Even Merida's face smoothed as she gazed upon the Hufflepuff's locks. "Heal what has been hurt. Change the fate's design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine…" Now the entire room filled with a warm, ambient light.
"What once was mine."
The haunting tune echoed after the light faded from her hair, like a sorrowful whisper drifting through the chilled night. The Hufflepuff carefully removed it, and underneath, the Slytherin's expression was wide with terror. His perfectly whole, untorn lips quivered, and words failed to surface. With a kind smile, the Hufflepuff wiped her robe softly against the boy's healed face, removing the blood from his unbroken skin.
"How did you do that?" Hiccup said in a voice so small he was sure only he had heard it.
"I have always been able to do that," the Hufflepuff replied sweetly.
He had so many questions. He opened his mouth to unleash the gale of questions that sprung into his head, but Filch emerged from beside the torch with a dissatisfied scowl.
"All right you lot," he grumbled, gesturing towards the cauldrons. "The fun is over. Get to work."