Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Boiling Point

Dumbledore was gone.

If tensions were high before that, it was nothing compared to the weeks that followed his departure. Without any activities, clubs or Quidditch, students had nowhere to vent their frustrations and unwind from the stress of looking over their shoulders and jumping at shadows all day. The teachers, therefore, had no respite from their duties, as when they were not teaching, they were doubling as bodyguards and (more often than not) babysitters, trying to wrangle four Houses worth of teenagers who were anxious, angry and going more stir-crazy by the day. And the Prefects were particularly pressured, trying to balance the weight of their classes with patrolling, which had become so much more dangerous that they now walked the corridors in pairs. And, as exams had just been set to begin June first, everyone felt overwhelmed with their revising, particularly the fifth and seventh years who had their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s looming over them.

Flint, however, was loving it; Wood's outburst that first night had solidified his return to seniority among his fellow Slytherins and even the Prefects looked to him for their cues. Their adamant stance that they had nothing to do with the attacks did not convince many, and passing in the corridors to and from classes was usually accompanied by sniping comments and dirty looks. And Flint, ever the exhibitionist, never missed an opportunity when passing Holly Hocks to make a scene and loudly lament that everyone else was not as open-minded as she.

He spent the rest of his time testing how far he could push Pucey and Abby before they inevitably pushed back. As long as the majority of his comments were made only within earshot of their immediate friends, they were resigned enough to ignore his baiting; his remarks were obvious and predictable and not worth incurring the retaliation of the rest of the House.

But Flint had taken note of Abby's reaction when he had made mention of Pucey's notoriety for having been with other girls, and gradually began weaving in more passive-aggressive comments than direct insults. It was not long after that before he was testing the boundaries and making wisecracks in the presence of Warrington, Montague, Yaxley, Derrick, Bole and anyone else that he had now brought into the fold as part of the extended group, and they were not bothered by how tacky it was to laugh. And it was not long after that when Violet, Aretha and Lara stopped trying to hide their laughs.

Pucey would have brushed off the slander (since he couldn't exactly deny Flint's insinuations about his earlier-than-average sexual awakening) if not for how visibly uncomfortable it was making Abby. That, he knew, was an awkward conversation that they would now need to have when they could find a moment to themselves (ha!), but on top of that, he was still hot under the collar about the way Flint had undermined him in front of everyone after Wood had taken a shot at him. It ate at him, and the more he stewed on it, the more he knew it would happen again. And again. And again.

Abby, in turn, had thrown so many glares in Flint's direction over those two weeks that she was sure her face was beginning to freeze that way. She had been expecting him to take digs at her directly, but his strategic choice to use Pucey's past to come at her laterally and plant seeds of doubt in her mind about her new boyfriend was more clever than she had anticipated. He knew his own infidelity would have her questioning the other boy's integrity if he kept at it long enough; Abby had, of course, known that Pucey had been popular, so to speak, but she had not been privy before now to knowing just how many girls he had sneaked off with (and bragged about to the other boys) over the past two years. It was not fun hearing about it from her ex.

Naturally, that was not the only thing on her mind, for there was something even more troubling that had come to her attention: she had not felt right since learning that it had been her own father to personally deliver the governors' order to have Dumbledore removed from Hogwarts. She could not put her finger on exactly what it was that was bothering her, but she could not help but dwell on the notion that they were all safer with Dumbledore present than not. She was well aware of Lucius Malfoy's disdain for the Headmaster's approach to running the school, but she had always been able to imagine it more to do with the old man being a soft touch with the curriculum than anything else.

That illusion did not seem to hold up as well as once it did; just this year she had been increasingly questioning the validity of her parents' prejudices toward the importance of pure wizarding blood, and she could not help but question her father's intentions in this situation as well. How would removing Dumbledore help to catch the culprit? Did it not seem more likely that his absence increased the danger at Hogwarts? And why, if his intentions were pure, would he have kept his visit a secret from his children?

Once the thought was there, it wouldn't go away. Abby hated the way Draco had now adopted an (extra) arrogant swagger in his step, as though their father's actions were something to be proud of rather than apprehensive. And now she was certain that she remembered her little brother mentioning something during Christmas holiday about a letter from Lucius withholding information about the Chamber of Secrets lest it cast suspicion on them.

"Here, Abs, can I see your notes for this? I don't think I copied this part down right."

"What?" Abby was pulled out of her thoughts and looked over her shoulder at Bletchley who had his arm outstretched toward her, showing her the page in question. "Oh, sure, here."

"You all right?" Pucey asked cautiously; they had both grown tired of being asked that exact question when there was nowhere safe to answer it honestly.

"Just thinking," Abby said with a smile that was meant to be reassuring but just came off as exhausted.

"One more week," Higgs replied encouragingly as he carefully ground sprigs of lavender with a mortar and pestle.

"And then what?" Abby sighed.

They were in double Potions that Wednesday morning; Professor Snape had written the names of three tinctures from that term on the blackboard. They were to work in pairs to find the instructions in their notes and brew one of them by the end of class. While Bletchley and Higgs worked on a Sleeping Draught, Pucey and Abby slowly prepared the ingredients for an Ageing Potion in awkward silence.

"You know you can talk to me," he whispered gently as he scooted his stool closer to hers. She shuddered involuntarily as their shoulders touched and immediately hated herself for it. Flint was getting to her; she couldn't stop picturing him with other girls. "I'm the same person I've always been."

"I know," Abby tried again to smile. " I just have a lot on my mind."

She looked up then and spotted Percy Weasley at the supply cupboard and something twinged in the back of her brain. Without quite understanding why, something was urging her to confide in him; if nothing else, with their family history, perhaps it was reasonable to believe that Percy would also see Lucius's behavior as suspicious? She glanced quickly at Professor Snape, who was at his desk and appeared to be concentrating on grading assignments.

"I'll be right back," she said as she slid her stool back. "I forgot some ingredients."

Pucey watched her get up and cross the classroom without looking at him and felt an odd pit form in his stomach. He looked back at Bletchley and Higgs, who winced.

"I'm gonna kill Flint," he muttered to them.

"Hi," Abby said quietly to Percy as she opened the cupboard next to him.

"Oh," he started and looked at her with a mix of curiosity and contempt. "What do you want?"

"I just, um, I just wanted to ask if you've found anything?" she asked hurriedly, stumbling over her words. "Like, I mean the Prefects, or the teachers? About who is behind the attacks?"

"Why? Feeling the walls close in on you?" Percy scowled.

Abby turned wide blue eyes on him. "You told me you thought that the notion of me being the Heir was ludicrous."

"Well. Yes. It is. Especially since Hermione has been talking you up since Christmas," Percy begrudgingly admitted and looked away to continue searching the supply cupboard for the needed ingredient. He removed a vial of eel eyes from its shelf and turned back to find her still staring at him, biting her lip as though she was fighting to keep words from tumbling out of her mouth.

"Abby?" he raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I have a terrible feeling," she said so quietly that he almost could not hear her.

"What do you mean?" he whispered seriously, turning to face her properly. "Do you know something?"

"I-I don't know," Abby shook her head. "Maybe?"

"Abby, do you know who attacked Penny?" he asked slowly, watching her body language as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and wrung her hands.

"It just doesn't make any sense," she looked at him helplessly. "Why would he have Dumbledore removed? How are we any safer?"

Percy frowned as he pieced together what she was saying. "I think that this is something you should really tell Professor McGonagall. I can go with you, if you prefer?"

Abby stood staring at him for a moment, biting her fingernail and visibly shaken by what she had been trying to say. Just as she was about to nod and accept his offer, Wood leaned back against the supply cupboard next to Percy.

"This one giving you trouble, Weasley?" he interjected. "To nobody's great surprise."

The mood shifted entirely.

Percy watched as Abby's eyes completely changed; gone was any trace of the honest desperation of someone who had something they needed to say and it was replaced with a wall that effectively shut down communications. The cautious tip-toeing he had done to coax her into talking had been undermined by Wood's accusation, and he felt his hope deflate like air from a balloon.

"I should go," Abby's eyes dropped to the floor.

"No, wait-" Percy reached his hand out.

"Yeah, maybe you should," Wood replied with a scowl.

"Everything all right, lads?" Pucey asked as he slid next to Abby and casually smirked at the two Gryffindor boys.

"Merlin's beard," Percy groaned.

"This tired old routine still goes then?" Wood drawled. "Abby makes a scene, then plays the victim until her boyfriend steps in to throw his weight around?"

"Do you know, if I'm honest, I would really love if everybody around here could possibly remember that I am not Flint," Pucey replied with such genuine transparency that all three present were caught off guard and gaped at him. "Personally, I've begun to find the drama between you and him exhausting, especially when it gets me caught in the middle and rudely assaulted, but hey, what do I know? I'm just here for her, since apparently it takes two of you to tell her off."

"I'm fine," Abby said quickly with one last glance at Percy. "I'll just go."

"I didn't need your help, Oliver," Percy said irritably and left as well.

"Don't mention it," Wood raised an eyebrow at him as he passed and then turned back to Pucey with his face reset to its scowl. "And don't you start."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Pucey rolled his eyes. "I've got enough on my plate at the minute with the way Marcus is running a character assassination on my charming disposition."

"Well, you are dating his ex," Wood reminded him.

"Ex being the operative word," Pucey retorted. "He's the reason they broke up. Not me. Not for lack of trying, of course, but patience is a virtue."

"So your little reunion was all for show, after all," Wood snorted and opened the supply cupboard to find the ingredient he had actually gone to retrieve.

"All the world's a stage, innit?" Pucey replied with a telling sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Look, Olly - lay off her. She didn't do anything, all right?"

"I guess we'll all know for sure when those mandrakes wake everyone up, won't we?" Wood returned smugly.

"Yeah, yeah. Slytherins can't change," Pucey waved his hand dismissively. "Pick a new song, will you? This one's getting old."

Wood opened his mouth with the intention of getting the last word, but found himself stuck on what to say. Pucey rolled his eyes.

"Psst, Abby," Bletchley whispered as she returned to her seat; she started and turned to stare back and forth at him and Higgs like a rabbit caught in headlamps.

"What?" she answered quickly, feeling her heart jump in her chest.

Bletchley paused and his face screwed up, like he hadn't quite thought through what it was that he wanted to say before calling her attention. His eyes flicked up to Pucey at the supply cabinet before returning to her, and his face fell into a miserable sort of pout.

"He would never do anything to hurt you, you know."

"There is entirely too much chatter in this class," Professor Snape's icy voice cut their conversation short, and Abby snapped back facing front after a heavyhearted look at Bletchley. "Everyone is to remain silent until the bell. Return to your assignments immediately."

Abby looked up and then quickly away again as Pucey slouched back onto his stool under Snape's frosty supervision and began scribbling on a piece of parchment. She stared at her own notes, hating the tension that Flint had put there between them. No, said the back of her brain, the tension you let him put there between you. Bletch is right. Stop punishing Ade for Marcus's mistakes.

A rustling caught her attention and she snapped out of her guilt-ridden thoughts; Pucey had pushed the parchment toward her, upon which he had inked three words:

I miss you.

Her eyes welled up immediately and she turned to look at him, wiping the first tears from her cheeks. He offered a weak smile, uncertain of whether or not she would understand the joke, and if she would appreciate it or not. He was out of ideas, however, and was relying on the sentimental instincts that had always served him well in handling her moods in the past.

She took a deep breath and pulled the parchment in front of her, dipped her quill into her ink and quickly wrote a line before sliding it back to him:

At least you didn't send the cat this time.

He sighed a little laugh of relief and stole another look to give her a proper smile before they continued their silent conversation.

See? I pay attention.

I know. And I know you aren't Marcus.

I'm not looking at anyone but you.

(Here there was a tear blotch.)

I'm so sorry, Ade.

Still want to keep me then?
There is still time to salvage your reputation.

I thought I was stuck with you?

You are. Trick question.

As she read his last note, he scooted his stool closer to hers once more and she wiped her eyes before shifting hers closer as well. She leaned her hip and shoulder to touch his and this time felt a calmness wash over her. The problematic revelation about her father still chewed at the back of her mind, but now she at least felt that perhaps she could tackle it with a semi-clearer head.

Pucey glanced over his shoulder to nod at Bletchley and Higgs, both of whom gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"I'm having a double helping of this - I'm starving."

"Can you throw some more on my plate, too?"

"Here, Percy - pass us the rolls?"

"Oh, Fred! Did I tell you what Patricia overheard Warrington and Montague whispering about in Charms class today?"

"Ooh, anything juicy?"

"Well, I don't think she'd mention it if it were dull, would you, Angelina?"

"Honestly, Fred, give us some credit."

"All right! All right, I hold my hands up! Do go on."

"Things are not what they seem in the green camp, I'll say that much."

"Oh, come on now."

"You can't do that."

"What have we ever done to you to deserve such treatment?"

"Where should I begin?"

"Hey, now."

"Well, it's Patricia's gos, she should tell it, really."

"Come on, then, Trish - don't leave us to suffer like this."

"Look, I don't remember exactly the wording, so don't quote me," Patricia Stimpson explained as she hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of food, not having been expecting to be put on the spot by her classmates.

"Even better, I love a good mystery, me," Fred grinned and then turned his head to call down the other direction. "Oi, Percy, pass us one of them rolls, will you?"

"Right, well, it isn't much," Patricia continued as Lee and the twins leaned their heads toward her and the other girls. "But I caught a snippet of their conversation as I was walking back from Professor Flitwick's desk."

"Ooh, proper little spy, aren't you?" George said appreciatively.

"Shh, let her speak!" Alicia scolded and he playfully zipped his mouth closed.

"So, Cass was asking Graham if he'd heard what Flint said this morning and laughed, so obviously I assumed they were being awful about someone being bullied," Patricia went on.

"Obviously," Fred nodded.

"Obviously," Patricia reaffirmed. "But then, what does Graham only say but that it feels wrong to be treating a teammate like that!"

"What?" Lee blanched.

"I know, see?" Angelina's eyes twinkled. "Trish, go on, sorry."

"Well, you can imagine, I had a split second to make a decision, so I 'accidentally'-" she made air quotations with her fingers, "-dropped my parchment."

"Ah, so that's what happened there," Fred noted, recalling the mild disturbance during class.

"And as I stop to pick them up, they of course make a stupid remark-"

"Of course," George nodded this time.

"Of course," Patricia acknowledged. "But then, they go right back to it, and Cass says something like, um, 'some teammate, he's the reason I was benched this year.'"

"Oo-oo-ooh, this is juicy!" Fred beamed.

"So, then," Patricia's eyes brightened, "I hear this 'psst' and I look up and Roger is waving me over like this-" she fluttered her hand in a frantic wave while making the sort of face one would make to shush someone.

"Who, Roger Davies?" Lee raised an eyebrow.

"No, Lee, Roger the Hippogriff, who d'you think I mean?" Patricia rolled her eyes, making reference to a character from a popular long-running Wireless children's program. The sarcastic response earned a round of laughter. "Any road, as I move over to Roger, Graham says to Cass, 'well, I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before he snaps on him for a proper fight this time.'"

"So, Pucey then!" George deduced keenly, which caught Wood's attention.

"What are we talking about?" he asked as he slid down the table and leaned into their conversation.

"Flint versus Pucey, round two, time and date yet to be determined," Fred held up his fists in a mock challenge.

"Warrington and Montague said this?" Wood raised an eyebrow.

"According to Roger, they've been talking like that since last week," Patricia explained. "He says it sounds like them all playing nice is only in public, and Flint's been trying to break up Abby and Adrian behind the scenes. He says he's been trying to get it out of Holly but she won't tell him anything."

"Oh, Katie, please tell me you sit near her in at least one class?" Angelina said with pleading eyes. "Or even Cho? She might know something."

"No way, I'm staying well clear," Katie laughed and held up her hands.

"You don't need them; Pucey said as much in Potions today," Wood revealed as the group turned all attention to him. "Sounded proper fed up, too. And now that you mention it, Abby did look a bit peaky, didn't she, Percy?"

"You knew about this, and all?" Fred demanded of his older brother, who was pointedly avoiding looking at him.

"As ever, I am not interested in either spreading or listening to gossip," Percy replied haughtily, hoping nobody had noticed that he had indeed been listening in.

"Roger thinks Flint is trying to bait Adrian to fight so he can turn the rest of their House on him," Patricia offered Davies' theory.

"He'll never turn Bletch, those two are joined - or I should say joint - at the hip," Wood scoffed, pinching his finger and thumb together on his lips.

"Ha! True."

"Well, an ally is an ally."

"Aw. That's all actually a bit pants, if I'm honest."

"I was just thinking that. Like, they can't even really get away from him while we're all under lock-down."

"Ohh, wow, I didn't even think about it like that."

"Ugh."

"Oh, boo-hoo. They can't even get along with each other, let alone the rest of the school. All the more reason to throw the lot of them out."

"Aw, Lee, even you have got to admit, she and Adrian have been loads better since they got together."

"You just don't want to see Pucey's face all bloody and bruised again, Alicia."

"Oh, shut up."

"I've been saying for how long? Flint is a disease. What more proof do you need?"

Percy's heart sank; the more he overheard and the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Abby had been trying to come to him with something important. And what a job you did, he scolded himself miserably. Here you're meant to be a Prefect - someone students, ALL students, can come to for help - and you take cheap shots instead like some low-class hooligan. He knew that she had been moments away from agreeing to speak to Professor McGonagall, and he could not help but wonder what she so badly needed to say. Had Wood not barged in. Or if you hadn't wasted precious seconds in the first place. He stole a glance at her across the Great Hall; she looked as pale and troubled as she had that morning.

"Oi! Percy!" Fred's voice shook him from his thoughts.

"What?" Percy, started, staring wide-eyed at his younger brother.

"Are you going to pass us a roll while I'm still young and attractive or not?"

A chunk of bread went sailing toward Fred Weasley's head.

The tunnel collapsed around her and Fred, dust filling the air, choking her as rocks and debris bounced off her pale skin; Ginny Weasley lay still, dark water lapping at her long, ginger hair; the Weasley family gathered together as though in mourning; Lucius Malfoy stared at the old, tattered book before returning it to his cloak pocket; the yellow eyes filled the boundaries of her vision and her throat burned as she tried to scream.

"Abby? Abby!"

"Abigail, can you hear me?"

"Professor Trelawny!"

Sam jumped off the squashy pillow and ran to where the Divination teacher was assisting Elanor Winter's crystal-gazing. Violet tried to prise Abby's hands off of her crystal ball; the blonde girl had gone rigid and her fingers were gripped like a gargoyle's claws around the small sphere as she made quiet gasping noises, struggling to breathe. Sam and Violet's sudden shouts startled the rest of the class and several students dropped their work to get a better look. Raquelle Newberry and Milo Forrest sprang to their feet from opposite neighboring tables and, along with Sam, Violet and Professor Trelawny, were able to pull Abby free from the crystal.

"It's burning... get it off me..." Abby wheezed, clawing at the choker around her neck.

"Oh, shite! That's hot!" Sam swore as her hand closed around the silver raven charm and she dropped the choker after pulling it free from Abby's throat.

"My goodness!" Professor Trelawny exclaimed as Abby began to cough. "Miss Parkinson, fetch some water, quickly!"

"All right, here, come on, sit up," Milo pulled Abby upright to help her get oxygen into her lungs.

"I'm actually a bit glad I wasn't seeing anything, if this is what happens," Raquelle grimaced, rubbing Abby's back in an attempt to soothe her breathing.

"I envy you," Abby's voice was raspy and she eagerly gulped the water that Violet brought back from the jug in the corner of the classroom.

With three days to go before their first exams were to begin, Abby had yet to make up her mind about whether or not her father's involvement in the re-opening of the Chamber of Secrets was actually likely or simply down to paranoia. She dreaded the thought of returning home after the school year was over with the uncertainty hanging over her, and had been quite surprised that morning when Professor McGonagall had announced that Professor Sprout's mandrakes were ready for cutting. While it had been common to mention the inevitable revival of all those Petrified, there had never been a clear time frame for it; many students had even assumed that it would not happen til after term had ended.

There was some small relief in knowing that, by the end of the day, the likelihood that at least one of those who had been Petrified would have information to help catch the culprit. But any optimism was swept away with the re-emergence of the nightmarish vision that was now emphasizing Lucius Malfoy, any moments involving the Weasleys, and those horrible yellow eyes.

"I'm guessing it wasn't just anthropomorphic marshmallows this time?" Sam crouched next to Abby, who offered a weak smile of gratitude for the tactical omission of Lockhart's name.

"Those sodding yellow eyes again," Abby shook her head, trying to clear the image from her mind. "I wish I'd never seen them."

"The same as the vision from your term project?" Professor Trelawny asked excitedly, bending to pick up the choker from where Sam had dropped it. "Fascinating. My dear, if I may, where did you procure this charm?"

"It, um, it was a gift," Abby replied, reluctant to mention Borgin & Burkes or Knockturn Alley. "Supposedly it belonged to Morgan le Fay."

"An easy mistake to make if one does not attend to the details," Trelawny's already magnified eyes looked positively comical behind her thick glasses as she peered closely at the charm. "But this is not Morrigane's raven - do you see where it appears to have two faces? This is Huginn and Muninn, I'm certain of it."

"Oh, wicked, she's right!" Sam said and squinted at the silver raven as Trelawny passed her the choker. "Wow, Abby, looks like you may have been getting a little help from Asgard this term."

"What does that mean?" Abby wrinkled her nose as she took another sip of water.

Before anyone could reply, however, Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the classroom, magically amplified to project over the entire school:

"All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Everybody peered around wearing looks of unanimous confusion at the unexpected announcement that replaced the bell to signal break. Professor Trelawny seemed to suddenly remember that she was in charge as the class frantically began to talk at once.

"My dears, please collect your belongings and form a line by the door," she commanded.

"But Professor, what do we do?" Sadie Bishop wrung her hands. "What if it's another attack? How are you going to escort us all to our dormitories if you've got to be in the staff room?"

"One thing at a time - ah, Miss Winter, you are a Prefect, are you not?" Trelawny called Elanor's attention, and the girl nodded nervously. "Splendid."

"Can you manage?" Milo asked as he hoisted Abby to her feet.

"I think so," she said as the head rush wore off. "Thank you."

"Er, don't mention it," he replied, clearly not having been expecting to be thanked, and returned to his table to gather his books.

"You too, and all," Abby said with an uncomfortably anxious look at Raquelle. "Thank you. I expect you would rather have let me stay fused to that bloody crystal."

"Well, maybe next time, but, ah, I owed you one, didn't I?" Raquelle replied, equally as awkward. "And," she continued as she moved to go back to her table, "I also know you didn't hurt Penny. I saw you helping her that morning."

Abby clutched her textbook to her chest and very nearly burst into tears. "Cheers," she managed and then ducked her head, unsure if she was more overwhelmed by the gratitude for the other girl's absolution or by the uncertainty of her father's involvement.

Professor Trelawny led them out into the corridor, which was soon filled with several other classes worth of students and teachers that all began to talk over each other.

"What's going on?"

"Does anybody know?"

"I didn't hear anything!"

"Ravenclaws, to me, please!"

"Was anybody missing from anyone's class?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Slytherins, please group to this side of the corridor."

"Do we know if it was another attack?"

"What else could it be, Gina?"

"Today, of all days!"

"Oi, Abby!"

Pucey spotted her in the crowd and he and Bletchley joined the three girls. "You all right?" he asked as he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Not really," she admitted as the gathered teachers sorted the collected students by their Houses and decided who would escort which group to the corresponding dormitory.

"Why? What's happened?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Violet.

"Charming," Violet muttered.

"That stupid vision is back," Abby blinked hard to shake the insistent after-image of the burning yellow eyes as the Slytherins began to follow Professor Kettleburn down to the dungeons. "Worse than ever."

"What's wrong with your voice?" Bletchley asked after Abby cleared her throat twice in one sentence.

"This," Sam held up the raven charm choker. "Started burning up right there on her neck. Might have been behind this vision all along."

"Blimey," Bletchley's eyebrows raised. "And we thought our class Niffler's temper tantrum was eventful." Both boys had come from Kettleburn's Care of Magical Creatures class and had long, angry scratches on their forearms and shoulders.

"Do you want one of these?" Pucey pulled a handful of peppermint humbugs from his pocket and held them out to her. "They help a bit when my throat is all iffy."

"Aw, babe," Abby gave him a kiss and then popped one into her mouth. "Thank you."

"It's nowt special, Abby - he makes sure all the girls have minty-fresh breath before a slap and tickle," Flint leered as he seemingly materialized behind them and made everyone jump.

"Fuck off," Pucey spat in a warning tone, not bothering to even pretend to ignore him anymore. Several Slytherins in earshot began to whisper and point, wondering if the moment had finally arrived. Flint smiled cruelly.

"Right, everyone inside, and sit tight," Professor Kettleburn's voice broke through the tension and Flint and Pucey were left to glare at each other as he ushered students into the common room. "Professor Snape will be along shortly to fill you all in. And you two be sure to wash out those scratches - no telling what Grizabella has under those claws of hers." He indicated his missing arm with a mischievous wink.

"Yes, sir," Pucey and Bletchley nodded at him as they entered through the hidden door.

The majority of the rest of their House was already inside, and the air was tense with uncertainty. Flint knew opportunity when he saw it, and was in the mood to punish his former friend for finally talking back to him.

"Right, I don't know who Grizabella is, but I knew it was only a matter of time before you caught something from some nasty bird, Ade," he laughed loudly for all to hear, and was joined by several others. "And passed it on to Bletch and all: flesh-eating, by the looks of it. Best watch yourself, Abby."

"Grizabella is Kettleburn's Niffler, you twat," Bletchley snarled without hesitation, and for a brief moment Flint was visibly taken aback, not expecting the Keeper to speak up.

"Ooh, the loyal hound has bite in him, after all!" Flint drawled, though fewer students laughed along with him this time now that it was Bletchley being targeted. "Did he tell you they come as a pair, Abby? Probably sleeps at the foot of the bed like a proper little doggy, too. Mind the fleas."

"You are so pathetic," Abby scowled at him.

"I distinctly remember telling you to fuck off," Pucey's eyes darkened as he took a step toward Flint.

"I've got this, mate," Bletchley put a steadying hand on Pucey's shoulder. "He can say what he likes about me. Coz I'd rather be a dog with a few loyal mates than a great sad old troll like him," he stared coldly at Flint.

"That goes for me, too," Sam folded her arms and stood next to Abby; Violet, however, had already disappeared into the crowd.

"And me," Higgs came up on the other side of Pucey and Bletchley, having arrived on the scene with the last wave of returning students.

"Copping off with a mate's girlfriend is considered loyalty to you?" Flint snorted humorlessly as Peregrine Derrick, Lucian Bole, Cassius Warrington and Carter Fleming moved closer to where he stood. "What a joke."

"The only joke is you thinking you have any moral high-ground in this!" Sam returned. "You cheated on her and she dumped you - get it through your thick skull!"

"Aw, and did you and Ade play siz, pap, brick to see which one of you would get to make a move first, Sam?" Flint sneered at her, and Sam stared back at him hatefully. Half the crowd laughed and half dropped their eyes and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Right, I've had enough," Pucey shrugged off his cloak and whipped it angrily at Flint, who swatted it aside. "This is what you really want, isn't it? Me to be the one to pick the fight so that you can get your knuckles bloody and still act innocent?" He threw his arms out to the sides, presenting a wide open target. "Wish granted! Only don't expect me not to fight back this time."

"Why, I've no idea what you're on about, Ade," Flint grinned horribly at him while his entourage snickered. "I thought we were all playing for the same team again! But, I suppose if someone can't even be loyal to his best mate, it's a bit much to expect him to be loyal to his House."

"I am loyal to my best mate, you git - her!" Pucey exploded and shoved Flint with all of his strength. For as solid as Flint was, Pucey's anger was enough to drive him back two steps, and the Captain's dark eyes flashed in anticipation.

"Get him, Flint!"

"Finally!"

Pucey put his fists up and threw a punch as Flint came back at him, but the bigger boy had seen it telegraphed from a mile away. Easily dodging the attack, Flint caught Pucey's wrist, digging his fingernails into the scratches there and pulling him into close quarters with the intention of keeping him trapped as he beat his face into a bloody pulp. This was, however, exactly what Pucey had been expecting, and a smile crossed his visage before he lurched forward and drove a headbutt into Flint's nose.

All hell broke loose.

Both Flint and Pucey stumbled backward, stunned; Flint was blinking hard as his eyes began to water and blur and his nose began to gush, while Pucey staggered in a daze, holding his head. Several students yelped and jumped out of the way as a natural circle formed around the two boys.

"Oh! His nose!"

"Look out, Ade!"

Derrick, Bole, Fleming and Warrington moved like a wall toward Pucey while Flint recovered from the blow, but there was no hesitation from either Bletchley or Higgs this time. The Keeper in particular had been pushed to his limit and, as Fleming reached out for Pucey, he grabbed hold of the other boy's robes and pulled them over his head, following up with a flurry of short uppercuts. Warrington moved to help him but was stopped by Graham Montague, who jumped forward into the circle and caught his classmate's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Warrington demanded. "He deserves a walloping and you know it!"

"And he got it months ago," Montague replied seriously. "I said before: it's not right doing this to a teammate, Cass. Don't make me fight you."

As the two fourth-years argued, Higgs was left to deal with both Derrick and Bole alone; as he apprehensively sized up the two Beaters and tried to formulate a plan, Matthew Pucey came flying out of the crowd and threw his body into Derrick like a javelin. Higgs shrugged but did not question his luck and ducked as Bole threw a punch, moving quickly as the other boy was built much more solidly than his own lean frame. As Matthew swept both legs out from under an off-balance Derrick and sat on his chest, raining down shot after shot, Higgs evaded another punch and tried to maneuver himself behind Bole, succeeding only in getting back-elbowed in the teeth.

"Ouch, that one hurt."

"Keep moving, Terry!"

Pucey shook the last of the fog from his brain and mentally cursed himself for not realizing that headbutting Flint would be comparable to smashing his skull against a cinder block. He was vaguely aware of what sounded like his brother jumping into the fight, but he had no time to interject before Flint was back on top of him. The hulking Captain looked positively terrifying with blood streaming down his face, and he grabbed Pucey by the shirt collar and drove him back against the stone wall.

"That's it, Marcus!"

"Come on, Pucey, fight him off!"

"You've got balls, mate," Flint snarled, his dark eyes burning with the indignation of being caught by the first landed blow. "I'll give you that."

"One or two," Pucey replied defiantly, gritting his teeth and gripping Flint's wrists to try to keep from being strangled; he was already up on his tiptoes, and his face was turning red as his breath came in short gasps.

Bletchley, meanwhile, now had Fleming in a choke-hold with his cloak still over his head, and was shouting a stream of obscenities at the older boy, who thrashed wildly, trying to shake the Keeper off his back. Students scrambled to avoid being hit by flailing limbs; Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass screamed as they jumped backward and crashed into a short bookshelf, knocking a lit candlestick to the ground between them. Violet and Aretha were there immediately to snuff out the flames before they set fire to any curtains or furniture.

"Marcus, stop!" Abby screamed at Flint, desperately hoping that she could make him see sense. "Look at what you're doing! This is barking!" She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him off of Pucey.

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, babe," Flint laughed and turned to catch Abby's arm, leaving only one hand still gripping Pucey's shirt collar.

It was enough.

As Flint leered at Abby, Pucey twisted away and felt oxygen begin to return to his brain. Sucking in a deep lungful of cool air, he threw all of his strength into a kick that drove his foot directly between Flint's legs. The Captain's eyes bulged and he released Abby's arm, doubling over in pain just as Pucey's knee came up and met Flint's nose with a satisfying crunch! that sent him reeling backward. Pucey collapsed, coughing and holding his now-throbbing knee.

"Oh, shite!"

"He'll be feeling that one."

"Heads up!"

With a crash, Fleming finally shook Bletchley off his back and into the fireplace tool rack just as Derrick bucked Matthew off his chest and scrambled to his feet. The Beater helped Fleming untangle himself from his cloak as Matthew wisely rushed to the safety of his brother's side.

"You all right?" the younger Pucey asked, breathing hard.

"Am I all right?" the other asked incredulously. "Where did you come from, you nutter?" Matthew smiled sheepishly as Pucey mussed his hair before turning to smile at Abby. "And thank you for the distraction."

"Well, you did say I was your best friend," she smirked as she rubbed her arm. "That means I'm obligated to rescue you, doesn't it?"

"Bletch, are you alive?"

"That was a brutal landing."

"Ungh-h-h."

Bletchley groaned as he picked himself out of the mess of tools, favouring his scraped shoulder. Fleming and Derrick, both clearly having eaten several punches apiece, turned their attention to him. The Keeper grabbed a fireplace poker as the pair approached, but before they could get to him, Emmaline Webb and Veronica Wallace burst from the crowd.

"No, don't hurt him!" the two fifth-year girls screamed in unison and dramatically threw themselves between Bletchley and his aggressors. Both boys stopped in their tracks, neither one wanting to threaten a girl, and snarled.

"You're a marked man now, Bletch," Fleming spat at the protected Keeper, who pulled a face in response. "Watch your back."

Derrick looked to see where Bole was still trying to catch Higgs; the former Seeker was that much faster and Bole was getting more and more tired with every punch that he missed. Wiping blood from his nose and glancing vengefully at Matthew Pucey, Derrick made himself focus and hurried to assist Bole. Fleming made a rude gesture to Bletchley before going to help Flint to his feet.

"This is mad!"

"Heads up, Terry!"

Higgs noted Derrick's approach and narrowed his eyes; this put him right back in his original dilemma and he maneuvered to keep both Beaters in his field of vision. His eyes darted across the room to Pucey and Abby, but before he could make a break in their direction, Sam clapped him on the back.

"Need a hand?" she asked as she tied her hair back into a short ponytail and eyed up Derrick and Bole.

"I wouldn't say no," Higgs smiled appreciatively.

"What, do all of you just hide behind girls when you're in trouble?" Derrick said in frustration.

"Who's hiding?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "I'm here to even the odds. Unless a fair fight is too much for you?"

"Fair?" scoffed Bole. "Sam, go sit down before you get hurt. Just because you like girls doesn't mean you get to play with the lads."

"Oh-h-h."

"I always knew something was odd about her."

Sam's eyes darkened.

"Well, Lucy," she scowled at Bole, intentionally mocking his name. "If I didn't want to fight you before, I do now. Oh, and I've got no intention of fighting fair - petrificus totalus!" She smiled in self-satisfaction with her wand brandished at both him and Derrick; their arms and legs snapped to their sides and they fell to their backs like rigid planks. "Just because you all choose to duel like barbarians doesn't mean the rest of us do."

"Well played," Higgs nodded, impressed. "And I'm admittedly more than a little annoyed that I didn't do it first."

"You should be, Terry - you're meant to be the smart one. Pull yourself together," Sam teased as she pocketed her wand, though there was still hurt in her eyes and she threw a swift kick at Bole's shin.

"Adrian! Look out!"

Fleming, meanwhile, had pulled Flint to his feet, and the Quidditch Captain was more furious than ever. Still aching from the groin shot and blood streaming down his chin and neck, he took three strides to get to Pucey and haul him up off the floor.

"Save us a shot, Flint!" Fleming snorted as he made to follow, but was stopped by a hand on each shoulder. He turned to find Warrington and Montague glaring at him.

"This is between them two, Carter," Montague said in a voice that left no room for argument while Warrington nodded in reluctant agreement. "Back off or we make you back off."

Not that Flint really needed any help - he and Pucey had each other by the shirt collars and were glaring daggers at each other.

"Not much chance of you making that tryout if I break every bone in your body, is there?" Flint spat.

"It just eats you up inside to see me have anything over you, don't it?" Pucey smirked.

"Did he just say what I think he said?"

"Finish him off, Flint!"

The circle tightened around the two boys as students anxiously awaited a victor. Abby and Matthew tried to prise Flint and Pucey apart, tugging at the Captain's arms to no avail; in fact, it was difficult to tell if he even noticed them.

"Think I'm jealous of you, do you?" Flint scoffed dangerously.

"I think you always have been, yeah," Pucey replied boldly, though he knew the audacity would cost him.

Flint pivoted on his heel and spun to his right, pulling Pucey off-balance and throwing him backwards over one of the sofas toward the fireplace and Bletchley. Pucey crashed hard to the floor and the back of his head smacked against the stone. His eyes immediately glazed over and he fought to remain conscious. Bletchley scrambled to his side.

"Marcus, please!" Abby tried again to plead with him as Matthew vaulted over the sofa to check on his brother. She put both outstretched hands against Flint's chest, knowing it would not hold him back if he did not want it to. "Look at me!"

"Get out of my way, Abby," Flint snarled, though he made no effort to force her out of his path.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, feeling herself on the brink of tears and trying to make him look her in the eye.

Flint avoided her gaze but still made no attempt to physically move her out of his way; he was staring passed her at where Bletchley and Matthew were helping Pucey slowly sit up and despising the little voice in his head that refused to be silent. No matter how he tried to ignore it, the damn thing kept pointing out that it was Flint who had abandoned his friends, not the other way around. He had betrayed Abby's trust; he had pushed Pucey too far; he had alienated the rest of the group and split the team and the House; he was the one who couldn't let it all go.

"And just what exactly is going on in here?"

The unmistakable icy voice interrupted Flint's thoughts and cut through the tension that filled the common room and replaced it with dread; every single student stopped dead in their tracks and turned wide eyes to where Professor Snape stood in the entrance-way, his lip curling in anger. What was once a circle of spectators melted into a cluster of bodies fighting to hide behind each other. Pucey's head throbbed as he steadied himself with Bletchley and Matthew's assistance and tried to focus on what was happening. Derrick and Bole still lay locked like planks to one side of the room. The Prefects looked at each other for ideas, knowing they would be the ones called on first for an explanation. Flint, at long last, looked down at Abby, who was still staring at him with pleading blue eyes.

"My fault, Professor," Flint blurted out before he could change his mind, and every pair of eyes snapped in his direction so quickly that it was almost audible. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and shrugged apologetically. "Must have pushed it too far. Been practicing that hard for my N.E.W.T.s that the bleeding thing exploded. Nearly took half the room with it." He threw a sidelong glance at Pucey, who blinked hard, uncertain if what he had heard was real or down to the concussion.

If Flint's 'confession' had been unexpected, then Snape's response was the equivalent of every story in the Quibbler being proven true. The Potions Master looked at first like he would throw his entire House into detention, but the intent soon faded from his eyes and was replaced with a strange, unfamiliar cloudiness. When he finally spoke, it was to sternly instruct Flint to reassemble the common room after he was finished speaking to them. Not a soul present truly believed he had been fooled by the Captain's story, but it was clear that a far greater matter was taking precedence in their teacher's mind.

That was how they all knew something was terribly wrong.