Chapter 26: The Falling Skies
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
THUMP. THUMP.
"Well, are you going to get the bloody door, or what?" Desmond McLaggen asked flatly, looking straight at Albus, who was sitting at the foot of his four-poster bed. "You [I]know[/I] there's only one person that ever does that."
Albus shot Desmond a dirty look as he started toward the door to their dormitory. When he pulled it open, outside were Sylvia and Rose.
"Hello," Sylvia said casually, as if she had not just spent the last several moments trying to knock the door down.
"Uh… hi," Albus replied, much too awkwardly for greeting someone he had known for the better part of a year.
Rose was silently trying to stand on her tiptoes and crane her neck around Albus's head. It was actually a bit funny to watch.
"So… most of the older students are in Hogsmeade, or studying for O.W.L.s and stuff," Sylvia said. "We've got the run of the grounds for the day."
"We should probably be studying too," Rose finally commented, looking at Sylvia. "Final exams are in a week…"
"I have been studying," Sylvia groaned, hands on her hips. "If I do any more studying, my eyeballs will fall out. Besides… I already know I'm going to fail History of Magic, so there's no use."
"There is, though," Rose replied pleadingly.
"I need a break," Sylvia interrupted what was sure to be a very long and well-prepared explanation from Rose. "And so do you. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You've got bags under your eyes and your hair's all frizzy."
"But her hair's always frizzy," Albus remarked – although, he had to admit as he looked at her, her auburn locks were unruly even by Rose Weasley standards, and that was saying quite a bit.
"Where's Scorpius?" Rose finally blurted out, as if she'd been waiting to ask for several moments now. Albus turned around.
"Will you hurry it up?" Sylvia uttered impatiently. "Iris is downstairs in the common room. I said we wouldn't keep her waiting too long."
"Iris? Iris Conrad?" Albus asked.
Sylvia rolled her eyes. "Do you know any other girls named 'Iris'?" she asked.
"What's she doing here?" Albus queried.
"Eh… I don't know, okay? Just… go with it," Sylvia said, waving her hand dismissively. "We can't just send her off, can we? Wouldn't be very nice…"
"And since when have you cared about being nice?" asked Rose casually.
"She's a guest," Sylvia said, looking at Albus instead of Rose. "We've got to be nice to guests, right? And Iris is a kitten – she never bothers anyone."
Iris Conrad seemed to want nothing more than to blend into Hogwarts' rather large sea of faces. Yet, to Albus, she had always stood out. They never spoke, and he would have thought it rude to ask, but Albus always wondered a bit about her heritage. Her very straight, midnight black hair and some of her facial features suggested at least partial ancestry from somewhere outside of Britain. Her surname and accent, however, were very heavily Scottish. The last time they had spoken at length was when Rowan Lester had flattened her in the hallway…
"You're not coming, Scorpius?"
Rose had looked back – she, Albus, and Sylvia were walking away before Scorpius even realized it. Scorpius must have given Rose some sort of negative wordless gesture, because Rose's face fell as the three started down the stairs to the common room.
"He should stop moping and enjoy some sunlight," Sylvia commented.
"He's not moping," Albus felt compelled to say. "He's just…"
The truth was, Albus had heard Scorpius crying himself to sleep the night of the Quidditch final loss, and he hadn't said very much since. Albus wasn't sure what to do, either. He didn't want to ask Scorpius about the match; at the same time, he got the feeling that the only way Scorpius would be able to put the loss behind him was to talk about the match. It hadn't been his fault, really; Albus would have never said this to his face, but Gryffindor never had a chance, especially after Cole Murphy put Freddy in at Chaser. To be fair, though, that was the first time Scorpius had failed to catch the Snitch, and if Gryffindor was going to lose the Cup either way, Albus was sure Scorpius would rather have caught the Snitch.
The common room was almost completely empty. The only people Albus saw, in fact, were Greta Stanford and Iris Conrad, who was sitting in front of the fireplace, rocking vaguely back and forth with her hands on her knees. She jumped up to her feet and approached them wordlessly.
"Hi, Iris," Albus said.
Iris gave a weak smile that immediately fell into a look of concern. "You haven't seen Rowan, have you? I thought he'd be with you."
Albus shook his head. "He's not even in the room. He left before the rest of us woke up."
"Oh… really?" asked Iris, looking disappointed. "I thought I'd say hello while I was here…"
"He wouldn't have wanted to talk to you," Sylvia said.
"Sylvia!" groaned Rose, looking mortified.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Sylvia said a bit uncomfortably. "It's not you, Iris, it's just… Rowan's having a hard time right now."
Iris frowned. "I heard a rumor that his mother died suddenly…"
"That's not a rumor, unfortunately," remarked Rose. "A hundred percent true. His gran, too… it looks like he'll have to go to an orphanage. A Muggle orphanage."
Iris put her hand to her mouth. "That's terrible."
Rowan had received the owl at the end of that past week from Social Work Services, which was a branch of the Muggle government. How the Muggle government managed to get a letter into wizard post, Albus wasn't sure, but the message itself was much more important than the method. The message was that a matron from an orphanage in London would be coming to retrieve Rowan once he returned from 'boarding school' in June. Granted, Rowan would probably do much better than most wizard boys, as he had been brought up as a Muggle, but he still wasn't looking forward to it, and Albus couldn't blame him.
Yet, it could not be helped. His only living relatives – a great-aunt and uncle in the country – were too old and frail to see to all of his needs. Trying to put Rowan's predicament from his mind, Albus attempted to enjoy himself, which should have been much easier than it was proving to be. The weather outside was nearly perfect, the sky blue and cloudless. But as it turned out, Sylvia seemed to be the only one of the group even remotely interested in having any fun. The other three all had other things on their minds – even Iris, who was quiet as usual but obviously troubled. She seemed distracted, fixated on the Black Lake as Sylvia complained for the millionth time about Professor Binns' droning voice and talked about a rumor she had heard that the Headmaster liked the idea of having two announcers for a Quidditch match. Speaking of Quidditch, there had been a small hubbub at dinner the night before. Madam Hooch was leaving her lodgings in the castle for a small cottage the school had bought for her in Hogsmeade, and Professor Flitwick had wished to see her receive a proper sendoff. Albus had only been alive for eleven years; he couldn't begin to fathom having the same job for nearly sixty. Madam Hooch had been at Hogwarts since before his grandparents had started going there. And that was a long, long time.
Albus allowed himself a smile. From where they were on the grounds, he could just see where he and the other first years had done their flying lessons. Rose had fallen from her broom, only to have Scorpius save her. That had been before the three of them and Sylvia all flew in the same flock. That seemed so long ago. He almost couldn't remember a time at Hogwarts when Scorpius and Sylvia hadn't been his friends. Sylvia had tucked her shirt into her jeans and done a headstand. She walked a couple of paces on her hands and then crumpled spectacularly to the ground.
"What are you doing?" Rose started laughing. Even Iris, who had been a bit sullen, let out a bit of a giggle.
"I don't know," Sylvia admitted.
Even to this day, some of the other first years thought of Sylvia as mean-spirited, and Scorpius as an aloof hothead, and Rose as an uppity know-it-all. (The main one to say all of these things was Desmond McLaggen, and honestly, who cared about Desmond's opinion?) The other first years didn't know those three like Albus did. Rose wasn't nearly as insecure as she had been when she came to Hogwarts, but she wasn't yet confident, either. Scorpius could be moody at times, sure, but his heart was in the right place more often than not. And Sylvia most certainly had an impish streak – perhaps more than just a streak – and her blunt demeanor could be off-putting, but she was also fun-loving and a fierce defender of her friends.
Sylvia ran on ahead, having spotted another student she knew. Albus had never seen the other girl before; Sylvia was always meeting new people. Rose grimaced, almost in resignation, and walked on ahead, leaving Albus to silently fall into stride with Iris.
"You don't look like you're having too much fun," Albus commented at last.
"Oh? No, the weather's nice…" Iris said somewhat distractedly.
Albus grimaced. He knew it would be rude to flatly ask her why she had come to Gryffindor Tower. Yet, she didn't even seem like she wanted to be there.
"Is Ravenclaw still celebrating?" asked Albus. This wasn't like talking to Sylvia or to Rose. He felt like he was grasping at straws a bit.
"Celebrating?" Iris repeated, seemingly mulling his words for a second. Then, her expression changed to a quick flash of dawning comprehension. "Oh… no. Nobody's got the time. Final exams are right around the corner, aren't they?"
That's what I'd expect a Ravenclaw to say, Albus thought to himself, …or Rose.
"Why aren't you studying, then?" asked Albus.
Iris frowned. "I just needed to… clear my mind for a while. And… well…"
Iris deflated as if she'd just been forced to admit to something.
"I was sort of hoping Lilith would be in Gryffindor Tower," she said sadly. "She's been avoiding me."
Albus mostly saw Iris when the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had classes together. He supposed Iris and Lilith must have been friends, but he'd hardly ever seen them together. To be fair, though, Iris was so tiny – nearly a full head shorter than Albus, who was no giant – that she would be very easy to lose in a crowd.
"She's been avoiding everyone, really," Iris went on. "Ever since she had that row with her sister… but maybe you didn't know about that."
"I did," answered Albus. Frowning, he added, "I was right there in the Great Hall. Kind of hard not to hear it. Professor Malcolm went right past me."
"…What do you think about Professor Malcolm?" asked Iris after a pause, almost as if she knew the question would be uncomfortable.
Albus grimaced. Why did people keep asking him that? "I know people that think something's off about him. I'm not sure."
"He can't be all that bad, can he? Not when Professor Gladstone likes him," Iris said somewhat innocently. "But then, I heard they've been friends a long time… almost since they were our age. They were here at Hogwarts together."
Albus listened. Surely Iris was trying to get to some sort of point.
"Lilith's changed ever since she had that row with her sister," she said. Then, uncertainly, she added, "Or did you not hear about that?"
"We were in the Great Hall when it happened," Albus answered glumly. "Sort of hard not to."
"It's awful, I think," Iris mused. "Even if your younger siblings annoy you, you shouldn't treat them like that. And you shouldn't let other people treat them like that…"
Albus took this remark to mean that Iris knew from experience. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"Isaac," she answered. "He's only just turned nine."
"About Lily's age, then," Albus replied. "Is he annoying?"
Albus shut his eyes tight for a moment; he hadn't meant it quite like that. Iris, though, chanced a short laugh.
"A bit… only because he's so boisterous. But then, most nine-year-old boys are," she said sagely. Albus nodded in agreement, thinking of his cousin, Hugo. "I wouldn't ever scream at Isaac like that…"
Albus opened his mouth, perhaps to say what he had been thinking – that he couldn't really ever see Iris screaming at anyone – but decided against it.
"They were close, Lilith and Laurel," Iris said. "Lilith said so herself. I wonder what happened…?"
"Not sure," Albus said. "James hasn't been the same, either. Not since Christmas. But if he wanted me to know… I guess he'd tell me."
Just then, Sylvia came running up to them. Iris took a step backward.
"Hurry up!" she exclaimed. "You're slower than a… something really, really slow."
Albus grimaced. "You're the one that ran off all in a rush… who was that, anyway?"
"You don't recognize Adriana?" asked Sylvia. "She's in our year, of course."
"Adriana?" repeated Iris. "Mack? From Hufflepuff? She didn't happen to know where Lilith's been, lately, did she?"
Sylvia whirled around toward Iris, the look on her face a bit quizzical.
"I don't think she mentioned it."
James
"Which one of these plants is the most powerful restorative? Aconite, Mandragora, or –"
"Mandragora," James answered, sighing boredly. He and Murphy had been quizzing each other on their final exam materials in the library for what had to have been going on two hours, and James's head was starting to throb. To make matters worse, James knew for a fact that the weather was immaculate outside. It must have been nature's idea of a cruel joke, to save its best for the time of the year where no one had an afternoon to spare. Still, James tried his best. For whatever reason, most people had him pegged as a bit of a layabout when it came to his studies. The truth was, James could apply himself very strongly if the need arose. His marks after his first year of examinations had been more than satisfactory – except for History of Magic, and only a few ever did well in that class.
Of course, despite it being his least favorite subject, he poured an extra bit of effort into studying for Herbology. Neville's owl knew exactly where James and his family lived by memory, and if James made a mess of his marks, his parents would know about it within the week. Defence Against the Dark Arts was the same way this year. He loved the subject and hated the teacher; thus, there would have been no satisfaction greater to James Potter than to force Malcolm to give him full marks. Potions bored him; the instructions were very exacting and it was one of many things for which James had very little patience.
"Alright, who is Groboduk the Second?" Murphy sounded like he was growing as bored with asking these questions as James was with answering them.
"Groboduk the Second? Well, Groboduk's a goblin, obviously, with a name like that…" James reasoned. "Did he lead the Highland Uprising in the eighteenth century? Established the only known all-goblin city, right?"
Murphy shook his head. James's jaw unhinged.
"You're talking about Groboduk the Third, mate," Murphy said. "Groboduk the Second was suspected of aiding the Dark wizard anarchist, Mellon MacGruder. Famously executed by the Ministry without a trial – which led directly to the Highland Uprising six months later."
James let out a loud groan and rolled his eyes. "Merlin's wrinkly – who gives a damn, honestly?"
"Binns does," Murphy said reasonably.
"And who gives a damn about Binns?" asked James brazenly. "Last time I checked, you didn't even need an O.W.L. in Magical History to be an Auror—"
Just then, a blonde-haired, bespectacled girl about their age popped her head around one of the large bookshelves. "Shhhhh!"
Murphy recognized the girl and wrinkled his nose at her. She wordlessly rolled her eyes, gave him a rude hand gesture, and disappeared behind the bookshelf again.
"That's at least the third time she's done that, you know," Murphy said, his eyes perusing a scroll that was unfurled in front of him on the table. "I think one of us has got a secret admirer."
"Who? Serra? Come off it," scoffed James dismissively. "C'mon, another one, and not History this time."
"Fine," Murphy said with a smirk. "What does the incantation Skurge do?"
"Cleans up ghost sick," James said casually.
Murphy sniggered. "Funny… but I think Gladstone would want the term 'ectoplasm.'"
James barely stifled a laugh as he shook his head. "When are we ever going to use Skurge, anyway? I guess you never know when a ghost is going to be sick all over you. Best to be prepared for anything, right?"
Murphy smirked. A moment later, his smile slid off his face. James noticed and whirled around. Two of the second year Gryffindor girls were walking by. James turned back toward Murphy, whose head had disappeared behind a rather large book. After several seconds, his eyes peered over the top of it. "Is she gone?"
James tilted his head. "Murph, it's been almost four months. I think she's over it by now."
"Easy for you to say," Murphy said darkly. "Your date's still talking to you."
James was irritated enough to snort smoke from his nostrils. "It wasn't a bloody date, Murphy. And please shut up. I wasn't there, remember?"
Murphy made a slightly alarmed face as he'd just remembered this.
PLING. A clear chime, not too loud, rang over the whispery library, indicating the top of another hour.
"Ah," Murphy said. "I think that'll be six. Time for supper?"
"Past," James said as he and Murphy both stood.
As they descended the grand staircase from the third floor, James's mouth was already starting to water. He had heard from Isaac Pike that roast beef was on the menu tonight. (How Pike always managed to get this information, and rather reliably at that, no one knew.) That had always been one of his favorites. Making sure to jump the vanishing stair, James and Murphy made their way toward the Great Hall at a steady clip. Right at the foot of the grand staircase, though, they ran into someone – or, rather, someone ran into them, not bothering to stop or slow down as she tore up the stairs.
"Calm down! Blimey…" groaned Murphy, whom the girl had blatantly shouldered without slowing down, stopping, or apologizing. He turned his head, almost as if in a double take. "Wait… was that…"
"What's going on?" asked James.
Murphy shook his head.
"Thought I recognized that girl, that's all."
James made an uncomfortable, somewhat disgusted face and started toward the Great Hall when he stopped to hear a singing voice, ascending from the lower staircase…
"…Now they're bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of—oh, hello." Brynne seemed to snap out of her own private world upon seeing James's face. She grinned. "How goes the grindstone?"
"Stony…" said James darkly.
"And grind-y," Murphy added. Brynne giggled in response.
"Maybe it'll be better on a full stomach," she reasoned hopefully.
"It'll be better in a week when all of this is over," deadpanned James.
"That, too," Brynne said thoughtfully as they started toward the entrance to the Great Hall together. Just as they began to cross the threshold, though, they saw a tall, black-haired wizard striding toward them.
"Oh, boll—" James thankfully did not finish – because C. B. Malcolm had very long strides and most certainly would have heard him. "Hello, Professor."
"Misters Potter and Murphy." Malcolm's blue eyes darted between the two boys. "Not causing any trouble, I hope?"
"Of course not," Murphy answered, smiling. James had decided a while back to let Murphy do most of the talking whenever they were forced to deal with Malcolm. It usually went much more smoothly. "No one's got the time for trouble – not with exams so close."
"That's a sensible approach, Mr. Murphy," Malcolm said with a curt nod. It might as well have been the highest of compliments, too. "After all, it's always best not to start fires you can't put out, isn't it?"
And with that, he walked away.
"What did he mean by that, I wonder?" asked Murphy.
"Who cares?" James replied.
Meanwhile, Brynne watched his back, tilting her head. She looked a bit perturbed – which James knew meant that she was actually very irritated. "I think he just completely ignored me."
"That may not be a bad thing," James answered darkly.
They entered the Great Hall, which was just starting to fill up with students. Keeping his eyes decidedly away from one table (where he'd glimpsed Tellius Nott and Philip Bletchley), he strode up the middle of the hall and the other two followed.
"Look – James!" Brynne exclaimed, grabbing his arm with one hand and pointing with the other. James followed Brynne's finger to see a group of Gryffindor first years eating together. "It's Albus! Let's go sit over there."
"Erm…" James muttered noncommittally.
"They're your family, aren't they?" Brynne asked. "Why not?"
James grimaced. She had a point. So he started in that direction, a bit tentatively, while the others followed. Scorpius Malfoy saw them first, turned to Rose, and jerked his head in their direction. She seemed surprised for a half-second. Their curly-haired friend, Sylvia, was hilariously halfway through a mouthful of roast beef. They all took their seats next to James's little brother and his friends. Brynne was on the other side of the table, opposite James and directly next to Albus, who gave her a bit of a stuck look.
"Hello, Albus," she said.
"Um… hello," Albus replied with a hint of suspicion.
"This was completely her idea," James said pre-emptively.
"What he said," added Murphy. "I'm just tagging along."
Rose took a short breath… "Um, Brynne? Since you're here, I wanted to ask you a question about Binns's—"
"Oh, for God's sake, Rose, where are your table manners?" Sylvia interrupted her. She took another mouthful of mash and swallowed. "You're not supposed to talk about nasty, depressing subjects over supper."
The boys – all of them – laughed along with Brynne. Even Rose, though a bit abashed, smiled appreciatively.
"So, James…" Albus asked, a bit hesitantly. "Any problems with Malcolm?"
Rose grimaced. Scorpius threw Albus an askance look.
"Well, he exists, so that's a problem," James muttered, stroking his chin in a mock-thoughtful pose. Murphy snorted. "But other than that, not so much."
"He's stopped being so nasty to James," Murphy explained. "You know, provided that James doesn't answer a question right, answer a question wrong, ask him anything during class, hand in an essay late, hand in an essay on time, talk, look at him, or breathe too loudly."
"He pretty much ignores me," James explained more succinctly. "Kind of prefer it that way, actually…"
"I don't know if anybody ever gets 'good' attention from Malcolm," Murphy said.
"Professor Gladstone does," Sylvia pointed out, looking up at the staff table, where the witch looked a bit bored without him at her side. Another wizard, wearing spectacles and green robes approached her. They started a very stilted, awkward-looking conversation that appeared like the wizard was very interested in speaking and Gladstone was equally interested in getting him to stop talking.
"I've always thought Ambrose was a strange bloke," James commented offhandedly. "I wonder why he ever became a Professor. He… I don't know, doesn't seem to like people very much."
"You ever think about what he went through when he was a student here?" Brynne asked. James, his expression a bit bewildered. "He's the youngest professor at Hogwarts…"
"Probably a student right after the war, right?" asked James.
Brynne nodded.
"Slytherin's reputation must have been brilliant back then," Murphy remarked. "Poor bloke… wonder why he came back to teach? I wouldn't."
James wondered the same, watching Ambrose and Gladstone talk. Gladstone seemed to grow more at ease the longer the conversation went. She even cracked a smile.
"So what was going on in the common room earlier, Al?" asked James. The notorious first-year gossips, Nina and Liz, came into the library talking about it earlier and James had overheard them.
Albus turned toward him, looking bewildered for a brief moment. "Oh… Pike got hold of one of Uncle George's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Long story short, Desmond McLaggen's in the hospital wing trying to get his left eyebrow grown back."
Sylvia let out a loud wheeze of laughter and buried her face in her hands. James wasn't sure if it was the situation itself or the fact that it had happened to Desmond McLaggen that made it so funny to her. Perhaps both.
The atmosphere at the table – in the Great Hall as a whole – was one of half fatigue, half celebration. Final exams were approaching their end, and the feast that signified the conclusion of the school year was soon to follow. Then, after that, summer. James stopped truly enjoying summer after the last one; being disallowed from using magic at home was a real kick in the pants as far as he was concerned. And, to make matters worse, his family was one of the few all-wizard families to follow that rule to the letter. The Ministry tracked underage magic through a complex enchantment called the Trace. Except the Trace could only detect magic itself, not the user. And when one lived in a wizard home where practically anything was liable to run on some sort of enchantment, a basic spell cast by a child wizard wasn't likely to register. In layman's terms, young wizards in wizarding homes could often use magic without fear from the Ministry. But since the Potters and Weasleys were so heavily involved with the Ministry of Magic and happened to be unfortunate enough to live close to a Muggle village, they all thought it best to 'set an example' – and thus, the Potter and Weasley children would all get into terrible trouble for using magic outside of school. To be completely honest, James knew that from the moment he disembarked from the train at King's Cross, he would be counting down the days until next September. But that was a completely minor worry for a different time; he put it from his mind for the moment. He laughed and joked with his friends and family. For the first time in a long while, he felt normal. Or, at least, as normal as an adolescent boy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could ever be.
At least, until he heard the screams.
James and the others all turned as one toward the sudden hubbub, which seemed to be coming from near the Great Hall's entrance. At a first glance, he couldn't see the source of the noise. In fact, he couldn't see much of anything in that direction. It was as if a cloud of palpable blackness had descended upon the Great Hall's doorway.
Murphy was halfway through a bite of food, but lowered his fork.
"What in…" he muttered.
"Must be somebody's idea of a prank," James commented.
"Pike, you think?" asked Murphy, craning his neck to better see.
"I hope not," James replied darkly. "I'd rather not find out if professors can dock points from a house for next year. We're already dead last as is."
"I don't see what's so funny about turning half the Great Hall pitch black," Brynne remarked.
"Sounds like a Ravenclaw idea of a prank," Sylvia said. "I'll bet it's some sort of inside joke – only makes sense to two or three people."
The darkness seemed to encroach on the Hall little by little. James glanced toward the staff table and saw Professor Gladstone stand…
"That's no good," commented Murphy. "If it keeps up we're gonna…"
James didn't hear the rest of Murphy's remark over a chorus of yells. The area around him went a thick, abyssal sort of black.
Albus
Albus squinted. Try as he might, he could not see a thing in the sudden darkness, nor could he hear much over the positive uproar that was happening around him.
Even his sense of smell was deceiving him; he thought he caught a whiff of smoke.
His sense of touch was perfectly fine, though – which is why his eyes swam at the sensation of something hitting his leg hard and fast.
"Ouch!" he cried. "Scorpius, that was my shin!"
"Sorry – C'mon, Rose, geroff!" groaned Scorpius, who seemed equally confused.
"If it was funny before, it isn't now," Sylvia commented.
Albus's ears rang with a thumping sound and a barely stifled oath.
"Brynne, Murph, you alright?" James yelled loudly.
"I'm right here, mate – stop yelling!" Murphy shouted hypocritically.
Albus's ears ached from someone at another table screaming hysterically. Apparently, someone in Hogwarts was still deathly afraid of the dark. To be fair, though, Albus was having a hard time keeping himself calm. There was something about this darkness that was unnatural, unsettling. And, no matter how hard he tried to tell him his senses were playing tricks on him in the blackness and chaos, the scent of smoke still encroached on his nostrils.
The blackness turned faintly bluish. The screams took on a new color as well, now mixed with terror and yells of "FIRE!"
Albus's heart started to pound.
"Fire…?" he repeated.
"Fire!?" Rose echoed, much less calmly. "We've gotta—"
"Go, but where?" Scorpius interrupted. "It's too dark to see anything. What is this, anyway? Some sort of spell?"
"It's gotta be," Albus said. "You can't even see the ceiling anymore."
"Lumos!" Albus heard Rose said. Then, she repeated it. "Lumos!" The light, which should have been blindingly bright from where Rose was, only turned the darkness a deep blue. "Not even my wand… but this has gotta be…"
"What?" asked Sylvia. "What is it?"
"Peruvian…" she started. "But they stopped selling it ages ago, and it's regulated now, so how…?"
"You're not making any sense again, Rose," Sylvia said insistently.
Rose, as she did whenever stressed, started talking extremely fast. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. My uncle's shop used to import it years ago when they were just starting out, but too many people started using it for crimes and the Ministry started tracking anybody that bought or sold it. Normal lighting spells won't work; someone has to get rid of the powder first…"
"Mundaerus!" a shout came from out of nowhere. Immediately afterward, there was a gust of what felt like wind – so sudden and so powerful that it nearly knocked Albus from his seat. Almost instantly, the darkness cleared. Albus knew that because he found himself looking straight into the brightest of lights. He squinted and turned away, his head starting to throb instantly.
"Nox," Rose said loudly. "Al, are you –"
But Rose stopped short when the spellcaster arrived, her blonde hair trailing behind her. "Miss Weasley, what were you saying about Peruvian Instant… oh, my god..."
Albus, spots still dancing before his eyes, jumped to his feet and looked straight up, where Professor Gladstone had gazed just a moment ago. Gladstone had looked unprepared for what she'd seen and, after seeing it himself, Albus couldn't blame her. The Great Hall's rafters were on fire – and not just any fire. Blue and white flames ran along the top of the ceiling. The night sky charm on it started to break. White fissures were forming in the false firmament, streaking across the bewitched sky like some sort of strange lightning. Two of the cracks crossed each other and something in the rafters gave way, falling from the air still alight like a comet.
Professor Gladstone's eyes widened and she took instant action. "Reducto!" she cried, firing a spell at the falling debris. Her curse hit its mark and the plank exploded into nonbeing. As soon as her eyes were on ground level again, she was in command. "Sonorus. PREFECTS, PLEASE LEAD THE STUDENTS FROM THE GREAT HALL IN AN ORDERLY FASH—REDUCTO!"
Gladstone stopped mid-sentence and fired another curse up into the air. Albus heard something splinter. Then Gladstone swore. Sylvia looked up. Her eyes widened.
"MOVE!" she shouted, taking out her wand. "Flipendo!"
Albus was still flying through the air when he realized that Sylvia had, for some reason, turned her wand and Knockback Jinx on him. He hit his back hard. Everything went blurry for a moment. He felt hands grabbing hold of him.
Then darkness overtook him again.
When he woke up, he was on a cot, every muscle in his body aching horribly. That'd follow, he thought to himself as he sat up and realized he had been lying only a foot or so from the floor. This cot's awful…
He realized rather quickly, by the white beds and the moans of sick students, that he was in the hospital wing.
He made to jump to his feet. Then it occurred to him that he'd fainted, and he thought better of doing so quickly. Instead, he stood very deliberately – just in time for Nurse Nadine to come bustling over to him. She normally (or as often as Albus had been in the hospital wing) looked composed. Today, though, she looked a bit harried.
"Albus Potter?" she asked.
"What happened?" was Albus's first reaction.
Nadine opened her mouth to speak. "There was a fire. You fainted. At first we guessed it was the smoke, but you didn't seem to have any problem breathing…"
"A jinx," Albus muttered as he remembered. "Somebody jinxed me… Sylvia. She hit me with a Knockback Jinx."
Nadine tilted her head, frowning. "Oh… Merlin's beard. Well, if another student attacked you, you'd better let the right people know. Was this Sylvia in your house?"
Albus nodded.
"You should talk to Professor Longbottom, then," Nadine said, nodding. "In fact… if you're healthy enough to go, they want all the students in their common rooms so they can do a head count."
A scream came from one of the beds where the curtains were drawn shut.
Nadine grimaced. For a moment, she looked ready to break down. "We've got… burns. Curable, but… I doubt this is something you want to be around for. If you can help it, you should move along."
Albus heeded Nadine's words without hesitation. He traversed most of the castle without thinking much about it, he was so angry. He wasn't normally an argumentative person, but once he found Sylvia in the common room, the very first thing he intended to do was to give her a rather sizable piece of his mind. Rose had always said she was mean-spirited. But Albus always defended her, always feeling Sylvia was less mean-spirited and more misunderstood. And he certainly never thought she would ever stoop to something like this toward him… they had been friends, hadn't they…?
"Pass—"
"Open up!" Albus interrupted the Fat Lady harshly.
"Mmm, someone's in a mood," the Fat Lady said sniffily as the portrait opened. "Fortunately, your password's still correct."
Albus jumped into the common room, which was very nearly a disaster – he nearly knocked several people over in his haste, the first of them being Tommy Jordan, who staggered and then turned around.
"Merlin's – Albus?" Tommy uttered. "When did they let you out?"
"Just now," Albus said distractedly, looking around at the rather large throng of Gryffindors. To his great relief, he caught a glimpse of Freddy, Roxanne, and Dominique Weasley immediately. His friends, however, were nowhere to be found.
He pushed gently through the crowd of people. The Common Room had never been designed to handle this many people at once. That was why emergency head counts were usually held in the Great Hall. But, for obvious reasons, the Great Hall was indisposed at the moment.
He finally staggered around an embracing couple and found Rose and Scorpius both seated on the floor in a corner. Rose jumped to her feet immediately.
"Al!" she cried, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek, which wasn't normal for her. "Oh, my God…"
But Albus wasn't in the mood to have Rose cry over him.
"Where's Sylvia?" he asked angrily, gently moving Rose aside.
Scorpius swallowed hard.
"Sylvia cursed me," said Albus, seething. Rose stepped back. She of all people knew Albus never got this angry. "I heard her say the incantation. She hit me with a Knockback Jinx. Where is she?"
"We don't know!" Rose exclaimed tearfully, shaking her head.
"What do you mean?" asked Albus.
"We… we…" Rose shook her head again.
"C'mon, Rose, keep it together," snapped Albus insistently. "What's going on?"
"We didn't see!" Rose cried. "Professor Gladstone pushed us down at the last minute. All we know is a beam came down from the roof of the Great Hall. If the table hadn't been there… but Sylvia… Sylvia didn't come out with us and we don't know where she is!"
"I saw her curse Al," Scorpius said somberly, still seated. Rose whirled around and looked down at him. "But she looked up first. Another beam had come down. Professor Gladstone used that same curse, only it didn't work as well this time. A big one was still falling, coming right down toward us. Sylvia saw it, then pointed her wand at Albus. That's when Gladstone told us to hit the ground…"
Rose turned to look over Albus's shoulder. Albus whirled around as well and found himself looking up again at Tommy Jordan. He was looking solemn.
"I just got word that Mr. Potter – your father, that is – has apparated into Hogsmeade and is on his way to the castle right now," Tommy said, looking straight at Albus. "He's likely to come straight up to Gryffindor Tower to see if you and James are safe."
Albus, although not thoroughly surprised, couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. "I'm fine, I…"
But a look from Tommy caused him to pull up short.
"James?" Albus asked. "Where's James?"
"James is…" Tommy sighed, grasping his forehead for a moment. "James is alive and well. But he's in the Headmaster's office."
"What?" Albus uttered. "What did he do?"
"Not sure… Professor Longbottom didn't give me details," Tommy answered. "I just know there's a chance he may be expelled. Your father's coming up to Hogwarts to investigate. And to appraise the… the casualties."
His voice almost broke as he finished the sentence. He looked away from Albus pointedly.
"Casualties?" repeated Scorpius slowly, as if just now realizing the word's meaning. Tommy took a deep breath.
"…Somebody didn't make it out."
Shaking his head, he walked away.
Albus closed his eyes, reliving the scene in the Great Hall, trying to piece it together with what Scorpius had just told him. Now that he remembered it, he could have sworn he'd seen Sylvia's eyes dart toward the ceiling for a moment, too, before she unleashed the curse.
She had also said, "Move…"
The realizations hit Albus so hard that they caused him to physically stagger. Maybe either Scorpius or Rose called his name; he wasn't sure. He didn't hear much of anything as he slumped against a wall and down to the ground.
It couldn't be as bad as he was imagining it. It simply could not be true…
Could it?