John sat in his common room and looked into the fireplace as he strummed on his Ukelele, humming to a tune he knew. The door opened and as if on cue, Jacob entered, laughing with his mates after doing a round of hall patrols.
John quickly stood and rounded the chair to approach the perfect.
"Hey, John," Jacob said with a charming smile, "how was your first day of classes?" He asked.
"It was good, except for the explosion in potions class," John chuckled. Jacob's eyes widened in worry.
"What happened? Are you okay?" He asked, placing his hands on John's shoulders to look at his face. He brought his hand up to feel the light burns. "Did you see Madam Pomfrey?"
"Snape told me not to," John muttered as his cheeks were being pushed together, forcibly pursing his lips. "Some Ravenclaw forgot to add the nettle," John said with a shrug. Jacob chuckled hopelessly, hanging his head as he let go of John.
"As long as you're okay," he said.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," John said. Jacob looked up with wonder, "later, though," John suggested. Jacob nodded and John sat down in the red armchair again. He began playing his Uke again.
It was nearly midnight when Jacob wandered down the stairs to the common room, where John sat still strumming tiredly at the strings of his small instrument.
"What was so secretive that you couldn't tell me with others around?" Jacob asked, chuckling as if not believing it would be a big deal. John sat up and turned to face Jacob.
"A friend of mine," John said, "told me there was an event tonight, very secretive; he was hush-hush about it,"
"Yeah?" Jacob asked, sitting on the arm of the chair. "What kind of event?" John seemed unsure of telling Jacob about it.
"Well," John started, feeling as if Jacob could prove the event to be true or false, "he said that the older kids of Hogwarts go out into the Forbidden Forest at half-past midnight and cast their patronuses into the sky as a kind of morale boost," John explained, "and he said that people from all houses usually go, but I didn't see anyone from Gryffindor leave yet. I'm starting to worry," John said, glancing into the fire with a worried expression as if to say that Sherlock might get burned one way or another tonight.
"Did your friend already leave?" Jacob asked. John looked up at him,
"Probably," John muttered. Jacob sighed. "John, I know you probably don't want the friend to get into trouble, but he's most likely in danger if he's in the Forbidden Forest." He said only making John's worry grow, "what is his name?"
"His name's Sherlock Holmes," John said, looking down as if ashamed that he'd done what Sherlock asked him specifically not to do. Jacob's eyes widened.
"Did a Slytherin invite him to this event?" He asked, placing a nervous hand onto John's shoulder. John quietly nodded,
"I think so; he was a first-year," John said, glancing his eyes up to Jacob, who quickly checked the time and cursed under his breath. He jumped up,
"Do you have your wand on you?" Jacob asked, jogging up the stairs to the fifth-year dormitory. He came back down tossing his jacket to John, who held up his wand. "Come on," he whispered, "we've got to get there before it starts,"
They opened the door to the common room and stepped out. John quietly cast the illumination charm so they could see better as they stealthily made their way to the staircases.
They'd somehow made it to the castle grounds, where they were careful not to wake the Whomping Willow. They stepped lightly past Hagrid's hut, however, Fang stood, smelling the air near them. Jacob stopped John and covered the end of John's wand with his hand to temporarily shut out the light. Nonetheless, Fang decided not to be on their side as he began barking and growling at them. Jacob began quickly pushing at John's back as they ran. By the time the two had made it into the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was out of his hut, asking Fang what was wrong.
"Shit!" Jacob panted from where he hid from the hut's sight. John was panting beside him, his lungs burning with the chill of the air. Jacob looked at John and they began running again. They stayed close and followed a strict path. There was yelling and laughing coming from a while ahead. John knew they were close. Jacob told him to extinguish the wand and John hadn't known how exactly to do that.
"Say, Nox," Jacob instructed. John repeated and the light from his wand tip was snuffed out. They walked the rest of the way in darkness and quiet.
"Flippendo!" Was aggressively changed by multiple people and the sound of grunts and shouts of pain was hardly drowned out by the harsh chants. Then, half of the chanting voices switched to a different phrase, "Slugulus Eructo!" And the sounds of pain were then mixed with one of wretching, horrible wretching. Jacob looked between two trees to we a large group of Slytherins cast the spells on a single Ravenclaw. The influenced first-years were physically damaging him with punches and kicks. Some were switching rapidly between Lumos and Nox and it made John sick to his stomach when he saw, peeking out behind Jacob.
The distant alarm of Fang barking became increasingly closer and harsher as if he'd smelled the others, too. John's horrified eyes stuck to the sight of what they were doing to Sherlock, that poor boy!
"My God," John groaned, lifting a quick hand to his mouth to suppress what might come up if he didn't stop looking soon. He quickly was pulled away by Jacob, who pointed behind them as if to remind him of the dog chasing their scent. John shook his head, I don't want to get caught out here,
"Oi!" Hagrid shouted in his gruff and low voice. There were whispers and a few last, scattered chants as the grass and dirt crunched beneath the retreating perpetrators' feet. Most of them were laughing, while some first-years were worrying about what would happen if they get caught. Hagrid flashed his lantern at the quick group of kids behind the trees as he stopped in front of the two Gryffindor boys. John quickly turned and threw up, making Jacob sigh as if relenting to whatever punishment was coming their way.
The grunts and wretching continued violently behind them. John was the first one to the scene, dropping his wand and everything, sliding on his knees to meet the suffering, convulsing pre-teen with shaking hands as he basically coughed up slugs. John illuminated his wand's end and pried one of Sherlock's eyes open,
"What are you doing, John?" Jacob asked, running behind John, who extinguished the wand and looked at the convulsions and nodded,
"Altered pupillary behaviour is commonly present during and following epileptic seizures, Jacob," John moved quickly to the other side of the boy.
"You're saying he's having a seizure?" Jacob seemed afraid and very scared. He was probably thinking of what would happen to the boy. John glanced up and nodded.
"He's burning up, the seizures are trying to sweat out the fever," John examined as he tried to move the boy's head to the side to make it easier for him to get the slugs out. "His nose is probably broken," John said, then shakily ran his hands down the boy's chest and sides, "three broken ribs, and his collarbone, too," John checked his pulse quickly.
"Dangerously fast," John looked up to Hagrid and Jacob with a very worried expression.
"We should get him into the castle," Hagrid said gruffly. John nodded and took off Jacob's jacket.
"What are you doing?" Jacob asked as John laid his jacket to the ground, smoothing it out flatly to the dirt.
"It's too dangerous to try and pick him up because we have no idea what the state of his neck is right now," John explained, tugging the shoulders of his shirt to slowly pull him onto the jacket. Sherlock wretched up another two slugs. "If we move him the wrong way, it might damage him more so; I only turned his head so he didn't choke on the thick slime of the slugs' discharge,"
"How do you know all of this?" Hagrid asked, confused by all of the knowledge the boy was sputtering out as he practically switched into a young doctor. John looked up as he hooked his hands under the jacket, giving it a test tug.
"My father is a drug addict, my sister's an alcoholic, my mum gets beat on a daily basis, and we have absolutely no health insurance; I kind of have to take a first aid class every couple of months," he said darkly almost in a growl as he looked down at the boy, "but all that matters right now is pulling him back into the castle and getting help," John looked behind him as he turned and pulled. It was cold out that night and it was a long path. Especially when you're pulling someone else's convulsing weight instead of running away from a big ass dog.
John's back ached severely as he began pulling the boy through the path they took to get to the scene. Every now and then, he'd look down at Sherlock to whisper and try to coax him through what he was going through. John couldn't even possibly imagine!
John pulled Sherlock onto the soft grass behind Hagrid's hut. John slowly let the boy down and dook breaths as he paced in circles with his hands above his head to reflow the oxygen. His face and hands were suffering from wind burn and his nose had been running for about an hour. Not to mention his muscles screamed out of exhaustion and overworking strain.
"Hey, Hagrid; could you get a blanket that you hardly use?" John asked as he huffed out a groan.
"I'll get the softest one," He assured with a quick nod, glancing down at Sherlock as the convulsions started up once more. Jacob slowly walked up to John, looking down at the boy, who wretched up slugs. John bent down to throw them away from the jacket.
"Sorry about your jacket, Jacob," John apologised. The perfect shrugged quickly,
"Don't be, John; your quick thinking is probably why he's still alive right now," Jacob reassured, lacing a firm hand on John's shoulder. He faltered for something else to say, "I'm sorry about your past, John," he said with a light sigh. "but, then again, it's what made you the brave, smart boy you are now, however shitty that may sound," Jacob complimented with a chuckle,
"Hey, shitty's my bread and butter, mate," John's ears went red with bashfulness as he quipped comedically. He ducked his head.
"Seriously, though, John," he chuckled, "I have no idea what I would have done if you didn't step up like that," He said, giving John's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're a hero, John," John's eyes widened and he moved back from Jacob,
"N-no, I'm not a hero; please don't say that," John said. Hagrid's door opened harshly and John tossed three more slugs from the jacket. John had Hagrid lay out the blanket and he transferred Sherlock to that.
"That way, when we put him down, it won't hurt his head as much," John said with a grunt as he continued to drag the boy's body. Hagrid lay the Jacket over Sherlock to try and warm him up, but he had already been sweating for an hour through his sporadic convulsions. They heard someone humming as they walked out of the side of the castle,
"Hey," She shouted, "What are you two doing out here?" Madam Hooch asked. She jogged out to meet them but stopped as soon as she saw the luggage they carried as he shook violently even still. She looked up at them and quickly drew her wand, only for Hagrid to stand in front of them.
"We're bringing him into the Hospital wing, Madam," He said, waving his hand to tell John to pull, "You can follow and help us... W-what was it again, John,"
"Keep him from choking on the slugs...!" John grunted as he dragged the boy into the entrance of the castle.
"I'm sending an owl to Dumbledore, immediately!" She shouted, running back into the castle and off into a side corridor. They couldn't stop or wait. Sherlock's state was becoming worse and worse by the hour and John really didn't want to think about how much time they had before something irreversible happened. So, John strained himself physically to make the trip shorter in time.
Thankfully, because the Hospital wing was on the first floor, they didn't have to figure out how to pull Sherlock up a flight of moving stairs. John was actually very bloody thankful!
Jacob and Hagrid jogged in front of John to hold the doors open so that John could quickly move into the room. They all began calling for Madam Pomfrey as John softly set Sherlock down. She came out of her office in a rushed hurry and stopped in her tracks as she saw the victim on the floor seizing up with tears in his eyes. He threw up another slug. She gasped.
"Please help, Madam," John begged, pulling her closer, "he has multiple broken ribs, fractures in the clavicle, and has been having sporadic seizures since we've found him two hours ago," He explained, "You have to clear his airways, Madam!" He pleaded with the witch.
"What's the state of his neck, boy?" She asked, quickly dropping to her knees,
"Inconclusive," John shakily said. She nodded, then took his pulse, "It was one hundred and six when we found him, one thirty-two an hour later, then it dropped to eighty-five outside of Hagrid's hut," He gave. She told Jacob to grab the clipboard from her desk and hand it to John. John filled out what he noticed and left it blank where he didn't understand or didn't check.
"We have to move him to a bed, okay?" Pomfrey asked. John nodded nervously and watched nervously as Hagrid pulled him onto a gurney that was lifted and placed onto a bed. She thanked them, John especially, and told them they could leave. "Try to get some sleep, John?" She suggested, but John completely doubted it! His heart was racing, adrenaline pumping through him like a hole in a dam.
All three were pushed from the hospital wing's patient room. "Hey," Jacob said softly, "let's get you back, yeah?" He asked, gently guiding a mindless John back to the towers so they could try to get some time to sleep.
John practically collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep not too long after, but his dreams left his mind more than restless as it showed him images of what would've, could've happened if John hadn't gotten there when he had.
"N-Noo! John screamed, sitting up quickly. He was in a cold sweat and some of the other first-years that were going through their morning routines looked at him, startled and very confused. John quickly swung his legs out of a bed he'd not yet gotten used to and ran down the stairs to the common room. He was headed for the door when another perfect pulled the running boy back in a circle.
"Ah-!" He said, tutting John quietly, "Jacob asked me to escort you to your classes, nowhere otherwise," He said. John let out a growl and tried to escape, clawing at the air for the door, but the other perfect held JOhn by the waist and chest to keep him back until he tired himself out. e picked JOhn up and turned him around, "Go up there and get a shower," He said. It took John a moment, but he relented climbing the steps slowly with a loud groan.
John started the shower and stepped under the water. He mainly enjoyed the heat, scrubbing his face, hoping to maybe wipe the sight of Sherlock being attacked like that out of his memory. John ended up sobbing, his face in his hands, leaning against the wall in front of him.
John heard the door open and he quickly scrubbed his face again, sniffling as he shut the water off and grabbed a towel to cover himself with. He went back into the dorm and got dressed quickly. As he descended the stairs calmly, he saw that the perfect was still there. John opened his satchel and took out his timetable.
"I hope you like transfiguration for first-years with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs," John said. The perfect stood, unfolding his arms and straightening himself out,
"I'm missing Defense against the Dark Arts for Transfiguration for firs-years? Cool," He quipped with a chuckle,
"I just need to pop in somewhere first," John said, reaching for the door. The perfect, held the door shut with his foot, his arms crossed again,
"What part of 'nowhere else' do you not understand, John?" He asked, gruffly from behind John.
"What part of 'need' do you not understand, Gregory?" John replied harshly. He waited a moment, then quickly and heavily drove his head back into the forehead of the perfect. As the sixth-year stumbled back, a string of obscenities spilling from his throat in a growl, John quickly opened the door, "Sorry for the split lip, mate!" he shouted, then slammed it shut behind him.
John made it halfway down the hall before the door was opened and Greg was making his angered way up the spiral staircase. John briefly twisted himself around to look at the livid student as he made for the stairs. John was on the base of the stairs.
He looked behind him, then leaned over the railings. He saw that the level below him was lined up perfectly, so he threw his bag down and climbed over said railing, then turned himself around and jumped. As he landed, the shifting of the staircase below his unsteady feet had him off balance. John fell, grabbing his bag strap as he tumbled down the turning staircase. Kids from the safer side of the stairs looked, surprised that a student was daring and brave enough to be case hopping. John looked up at Greg, who was staring down in disbelief at John. He stood and went down to the safe platform, then hopped down two more levels to the first floor with a roll as he landed.
John grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and ran as fast as he could to the hospital wing. John burst through the doors, his lungs heaving wildly as he'd been running since the staircases. Jacob turned, surprised to see John in the room.
"Where's Greg?" He asked, approaching the boy, who was reasonably out of breath. John swallowed loudly and held up a finger,
"I think he stopped following me when I jumped off the stairs," He panted. Jacob's eyes widened considerably.
"What?! John, are you absolutely mad!?" He shouted. "John, I respect you, especially for what you did for Sherlock last night, but this is-" he started, but John pushed past him,
"Speaking of, how is he?" John asked, smiling slightly with unrealistic anticipation of him being awake and sitting up, but as John pushed open the curtain, he saw that the boy was asleep. John tightened his lips. He supposed seizures did take a lot of energy out of a person. He'd need all the rest he could get. John sat down next to him and looked at his pale face. He was still sweating, meaning he probably still had a fever. John placed his hand on Sherlock's arm and watched the boy breathe. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips were slightly parted. John couldn't imagine the amount of pain he must've been in,
"I managed to control his convulsions and his vitals," Madam Pomfrey said as she saw John in the chair. "He's been asking for you in his sleep, you know?" She said with a smile. John felt his ears heat up.
"John!" Someone else burst through the door. It was Greg with dried blood connecting his nostrils to his upper lip. He looked livid, but Madam Pomfrey insisted he got the blood cleaned from his face before shouting near her patient.
Greg glared at John until he saw who he was sitting next to. "Isn't that that Holmes kid who talked shit on professor Snape to his face?" He asked. John nodded, putting his bag on the ground. John opened it and pulled out his Ukelele. He'd begun tuning it by ear and strumming lightly to test as Jacob questioned the nonchalance of John's response.
"He did what?" Jacob asked.
"He basically called Snape irresponsible because a Slytherin first-year threw her Gobstones at us in the courtyard during lunch," John said, strumming a harmonious chord, "and it was Snape's supervision shift,"
"Oh, my God," Jacob snickered, "N-no, that was very ill-mannered of him," he tried to act like a perfect, but was having a difficult time with it,
"Don't worry," John smiled up at Jacob, "Snape took ten more points off Ravenclaw than he had to his own house, so at least we know he's fair," John said sarcastically as he strummed a quick line of chords.
By dinner, John was expected to have left the patient room, but he was still there, playing little tunes and humming to them. Greg came in after dinner and said Jacob collected classwork for him from the classes he'd missed.
"We've also brought your dinner to the common room, mate," he said. John knew it was an incentive for him to leave for the night and John was finishing up a tune on his Uke when someone else entered the room. John stood, his music halting to see professor Flitwick. John smiled.
"How is he?" Flitwick asked,
"His vitals are under control again, his seizures stopped earlier this morning, and he stopped throwing up slugs not too long after we brought him in, sir," John said as Flitwick climbed onto the chair to the left of Sherlock,
"We?"
"You don't want to know, sir," John said, looking down.
"Please, Mr Watson, he's one of my students; I need to know what happened to him," Flitwick said, looking over at John, who sighed and sat down.
"I think it was a hazing," John began,