Reckoning
The sky seemed to be weeping, it had been drizzling the whole morning. All around him were sullen faces and black robes, everyone was sprouting a big black umbrella.
There were two tombstones, both made from the same black marble. In words of gold, the names of its occupants were written, Jojen could not make out the first names, but he could see the words Weasley, written on both tombstones.
Flowers, white and pure, were placed in front of the graves as raindrops continue to fall, the sky was a dull blue and grey.
"… waiting for us, we walked straight into a trap…" Jojen recognised the voice, that was Daario that was speaking.
His whole body was aching in pain, he was lying somewhere soft.
It was a pigsty, but inside the pigsty was no pig, a man and two women, as naked as the day they were born into the world, they wore collars of iron and were chained to a pigsty. They looked up when they saw Jojen approach, their eyes full of despair.
He would free them, later, Jojen walked past them.
By the fireplace sat a small circle of wizards, they were drinking and cheering as they watched the show in front of them.
Tied to the wooden stake was a girl, no older than sixteen. She was stripped bare of her clothes, a wizard, whip in hand, was whipping her as hard as he possibly could, her skin had split and blood was seeping from her wounds, she was screaming for mercy but the wizard showed no signs of stopping.
"… is what the centaur said!" someone was shouting agitatedly.
"And you trust everything that this centaur said?" someone asked.
"Jojen trusted him."
There was a greenish-blue light in the night sky, amidst the clouds. Jojen walked slowly, wand out and ready. In front of him, leading the pack, was a man with long black hair, when he turned, Jojen saw his long face, his sharp nose and his dispassionate black eyes.
Arthur Dayne, the name came to Jojen's mind, even though he had never seen this wizard before in his life.
To his right was a tall black wizard, bald in the head but with a beard of white, he held a plain wooden staff in one hand. It was Professor Hotah, but he looked older, much more tired. To his left was Roza, he could have recognized her anywhere, but she too was older, and much more mature.
Behind them, walked more wizards, sullen, quiet, and alert, with their wands out and ready.
It was dark when he finally came out of his slumber. Only a few candles were alight, and the room he was in was only dimly lit.
He was staring at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing. It slowly came into focus as Jojen started at the ancient murals. There was a painting of a chivalrous knight, with a lance and a shield, a green dragon breathing fire standing in front of a princess.
"Jojen?" sitting by his right, was Louvel.
"How do you feel?" to his left, Chloé took his hands in hers and squeezed.
"Just… painful," Jojen moaned. Louvel passed him a cup, Jojen drank the contents without even thinking. It tasted like sweet wine without the alcohol, it dulled the pain from his broken bones, but not by much.
"Aunt Rose said that you will make a full recovery," Chloé tried to sound cheerful as she said it.
"Good," Jojen said, he turned to Louvel and asked: "What happened?"
Louvel paused before answering: "When none of us returned by midnight, Julia grew anxious and she alerted Professor Hotah, who led a few other professors down through the trapdoor and into the dungeons."
"Was anyone else hurt?" he asked.
"No, most of us were still unconscious when they found us."
"What about… Lysander?"
"There were no signs of him, nor any of the other Slytherins," Louvel replied. "After that night, thirty-one Slytherins had vanished from the school, it was like they just disappeared into thin air, no traces of them were left, not even their luggage, their spellbooks. It was like they were never here."
Where could they have disappeared?
"I'm glad to see that you are awake, Mr Weasley," a voice came from beyond his bed. Jojen shifted his head and saw two figures, previously standing in the darkness move forward into the light.
One was a young witch, she had short purple hair that did not reach beyond her neck, she wore a blue and purple jacket a few sizes too big. There were white trimmings around the edges as well and strange runes in white printed all over. The other was a much older wizard, his long hair flowed freely, he had a sharp nose and a long face.
"Arthur Dayne?" Jojen mumbled. He had never seen this wizard in his life, but somehow, he knew his name.
"Sorry, have we met?" he asked, taken aback.
Jojen did not know what to answer, the wizard that he saw in his dreams was here, standing in front of him.
"I am Arthur Dayne, this is my associate, Ygritte Leslie," seeing that Jojen did not reply to his question, Dayne did a formal introduction of himself and the young witch, "We are Aurors with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, we are here to ask you some questions about your involvement with the-"
He was cut mid-sentence by a loud bang, the door to the Hospital Wing was knocked wide open. There were two wizards and a witch. Uncle Fred was standing beside his parents, he looked apprehensive. Beside him, Hugo was peering inside the Hospital Wing, looking concerned, but Lucile was radiating rage and anger as she stormed in.
"JOJEN, YOU BASTARD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON!" she pulled out her wand as she screamed.
"Lucile," Hugo grabbed her arms and tried to hold her back. From the other end, the door to the office opened and Aunt Rose stepped out looking at the commotion.
Jojen had never seen his mother lose her temper, for as long as he could remember, Lucile has been this loving, caring, gentle mother to five children. Whenever someone would mention her past as a Dragon Keeper, she would laugh it off as a hobby she had when she was younger. But the Dragon Keeper in her has never left, it was just covered by layers of soft motherly love.
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? LOOK AT THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO MY SON!" she screamed as she came chagrining in towards Jojen.
Aemon.
"What have you done!" Lucile never reached Jojen's bed. Her legs gave way as she collapsed onto the ground and started sobbing. Hugo rushed forward and held her in his vast arms.
Jojen looked around the Hospital Wing, eight of the other beds were empty, the only other bed that was occupied was behind blinds. Jojen sat up, his whole body ached as he did so. His legs were covered in bandages, he slowly lifted them and reached for the floor with his feet, the tiles were cold when his toes touched the floor.
"I would not advise that Mr Weasley, you shouldn't be walking right not," the Auror, Dayne warned.
"You have weak bones," Uncle Fred called, standing behind Hugo and Lucile.
Jojen stood up, slightly unsteadily, and started walking. He felt his joints crack as he put one foot after another, small jots of pain bit into him, they hurt, but at the same time they were numb. His steps were unstable as he walked. Louvel grabbed his right arm and hoisted it over his shoulders.
"Jojen!" Aunt Rose called as she hurried over, "You need to rest, your bones need more time to heal, you don't have to see this now."
"I must," Jojen stammered as he continued walking, Chloé hurried over and placed his left arms over her shoulder.
His bones had not yet recovered and were as brittle as glass. Crack, Jojen looked down and saw that the bones in his right leg were broken, his blue and white pants were instantly drenched in blood, the seeped flowed onto Jojen's feet, leaving a bloody footprint on the ground with every step he took.
"Let me get you back to bed Mr Weasley," Dyane said as he moved towards Jojen, "You shouldn't be walking while your bones are not fully healed." He said again, concern in his voice.
"No," Jojen uttered, he raised his hands to stop Dayne. The wizard stopped in his track and looked at Aunt Rose as Jojen continued to walk, inching closer and closer to the blinds. He made no further attempts to stop him. Neither attempted to stop Jojen again.
There was another crack, the bone in his other leg had been snapped under his weight. He gripped Louvel and Chloé tighter, relying on them to carry his weight.
"Maybe he's right, and this is not the right time for you to do this, you should lie down Jojen," Louvel suggested, he sounded worried.
Jojen shook his head.
Jojen's legs were bent at the calf, the white bone from his right leg was jutting out of his pants. Blood was pouring from his wounds to the floor, his pants were now completely red with blood, it was amazing the amount of blood his body could hold, and the amount of blood he could lose without dying.
He felt pain, the pain he felt when his bone cracked, the pain he was still feeling of his muscles being torn apart by his bones, yet, the pain of breaking his bones seemed trivial to him now.
"Almost there," Jojen panted. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, he was almost there.
"Jojen," a weak voice called out, "Is that you?"
The distance from his bed to the blinds were no more than six yards, but to Jojen it might as well have been six thousand miles, it felt like an eternity had passed before he found himself standing in front of the blinds.
His face and arms were covered in sweat, drenching his bandages and his collar, blood was flowing from his gaping wounds on his legs to the floor and onto the white marble tiles of the Hospital Wing. He removed his left arm from the shoulders of Chloé and pulled open the blinds with his left hand.
He lost his balance when the blinds opened, unable to support himself with his legs, Jojen fell forwards, instinctively, he held out his left arm to try to soften the landing, but the bones in his forearm gave way as though they were made of cheese, folding on itself and snapping into several pieces. Jojen hit the ground face first, his nose broke as he landed on the floor, blood started running down from his nose, this was a new injury.
Jojen saw a movement behind him, Chloé took a step forward, but Louvel grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
He had only one good limp left, which was his right hand, Jojen stretched his right hand and grabbed the handle on the side of Aemon's bed, he pulled himself up.
Aemon turned his head at the sound, facing the direction of Jojen, but he could not see him. The sockets which his eyes would have been in was empty, his eyelids were sunken, there was nothing inside to support their natural structure. He was unable to close both eyelids fully. Through the gap, Jojen saw the hollow interior of his eyes and the nothingness it contains.
Something more than sweat was rowing across Jojen's cheeks and dripping onto his clothes. At this moment, Jojen could do nothing but cry, as he gripped the side of Aemon's bed.
"I'm sorry Aemon," was all Jojen could blubber as he wept.
"It's alright Jojen," Aemon told him, smiling, "This is just our one great adventure."
