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Ch. VI: Confrontation

He breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of the well- polished floor and the fragrant odor that the bath had left behind. Mingled in it all, he detected the smell of handle polish and cinnamon. The scent he knew all too well. He took his wand out of his pocket and waved it swiftly at the torches perched high on the right hand side of the bathroom. They blazed with orange light that flickered off of the clean tile and glinted off of the silver taps on the edge of the giant sunken in swimming pool.

Set in a corner, almost in shadow, there was a bed of scarlet pillows and a blanket draped over one or two bodies. He tried all of the old tricks, breathing in slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He clenched and unclenched his fists, thought about quidditch to try and clear his head, but nothing had availed. He felt the anger rising in his cheeks, burning like a white-hot curse.

He took slow steps over to the bed of pillows, to make sure his anger was not in vain. There was a tall boy, one that he recognized the face of. They were in the same year; it was Percy Weasley, a Gryffindor and Head boy. Normally his thoughts would have probably yielded some happiness for the boy; it would be quite a feat, in his opinion, for Percy Weasley to 'get some.' But this was no normal occasion, the head resting on the boy's chest was the head that should've been resting on his chest that night. The head, who's black hair shone beautifully in the torchlight, was his.

"Mobilicorpus," he muttered the simple spell that a third year would be capable of. Marcus watched her intently. She was still clothed in her work robes from the previous day. Her eyes were blackened, the makeup had gathered on the top of her cheeks. The girl rose into the air, breaking out of sleep. She looked at the wand-wielding boy in horror, afraid of what would come next. "I see you've had a good night."

"Marcus, I can explain, I can-," she was cut off as she flew toward him roughly. He caught her in his left arm; his wand arm was still raised, preparing to do more. He pointed it dorectly at the Weasley.

"Weasley," he shouted, his voice echoing and ringing out around the bathroom. The redheaded boy shot up from the pillows, startled. He met Flint's dark glare and stood up with a determined look on his face. More so than Flint's glare or even the wand that was pointed at him, Weasley feared for the girl that was clutched in Flint's left arm.

"Flint," he said, staring back at the other boy. He was just as tall as Flint, seeing eye to eye with him. Flint was much broader than he was though; Percy was far from scrawny. His meager muscles were not going to save him now. He vowed to use his superior wit and quick thinking, what a Head boy should be most proud of. Percy was no amateur at magic either, the dueling club was happy to have him there second year, as he knew almost as many curses as the teachers did.

"Weasley, I am not even going to ask what you were doing in here," Flint narrowed his eyes. He couldn't decide which one he was enraged at. The one that was struggling under his strong arm, or the one that was staring with a focused look back at him from a distance of ten feet, not looking frightened.

"We weren't doing anything Marcus, I-," Xanne was able to say before he tightened his grip on the girl's neck with his flexed arm. She began flailing about instantly and Weasley made a move toward him. He fixed his wand on a point between Weasley's eyes and loosened his grip on the girl.

"You!" he spat down at the girl who was struggling. "You betrayed me! I gave you everything and you sold me out to be with this.this."

"I assure you, Flint, she did no such thing," Weasley insisted, a brazen look on his face.

"Do not get me started on you Weasley, I'll get to you next."

"Leave him out of this, he didn't do anything!" Xanne squealed. He grimaced at the sound of her voice and flung her away from himself. She smacked into the nearest wall and crumpled to the ground. He watched her fall, grinning dementedly.

Percy fought the urge to run to the girl and took advantage of the moment. Flint had looked away and lowered his wand, marveling at his superior strength. Percy's hand dove instantly into his robes and pulled out his wand. He leapt forward at Flint, bringing his wand down in a quick swishing motion.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" he roared louder than he had spoken in quite a while. The blast of golden light hit Flint in the chest. His wand flew, not at Percy, but straight past him and a hollow 'thwap' sounded as it struck the wall at that velocity. It fell to the ground, snapped in two. As if that alone wasn't evidence of the power that was in that one simple spell, Marcus Flint, all two hundred pounds of him, was blasted into the air and flew backwards. He rocketed about thirty feet, flipping backward the entire time, and came crashing down in the swimming pool, rolling down into the deeper end. He was alive, his chest rose and fell heavily, but he was knocked out and a thin trickle of blood came from beneath his hairline and trailed down his face, twinkling in the torchlight.

Percy took no time to check on the boy's condition, he ran instead to the crumpled pile of girl on the floor. He summoned one of the pillows to him and he laid her down on it, checking to see if she had hit her head too badly. She looked peaceful as she slept, if you could call it sleep. Her black hair which had fallen loosely in her face was pulled back out of her face, which looked pail and fragile. He reached down and took the necklace she wore in his hand. It was an orb of some sort. It was placid and peaceful, immediately he recognized it. It was an onyx, and he knew what placid and peaceful meant, she was fine and happy, not knowing anything but what went on in her own mind. If she had, in fact, died from the impact, the black stone would have burned white and turned to dust, and fell out of the talon that clutched it.

Shaking her awake, her dark eyes met his azure ones. He smiled weakly at her, and she smiled back, reaching over to take his hand. He took her hand, waving his wand lazily, the pillows and blankets on the floor near them disappeared.

The door of the bathroom creaked open again, it seemed to do that quite often when they were in there, and in walked a person Percy was actually glad to see. Xanne released his hand and he stood up, facing the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He tried to speak to the man, but Dumbledore simply waved his hand at Percy's explanation as he walked nearer. His long white beard swished from side to side until he came about two feet away from the Gryffindor.

He reached a hand out to the Head Boy badge that was pinned on the boy's robes. Percy looked like he was going to be sick. His face turned to one of worry to one of rue. He braced himself for the Headmaster to take the badge, but he did not take it, he merely brushed the dust off of it so it glinted in the light.

"I have never felt so strongly," he began, his blue eyes looking proud and hopeful. "What I mean to say is, I have never been so proud of anyone who has worn this badge. You have genuinely proved yourself Mr. Weasley."

"But sir, you don't know," Percy said hurriedly. Dumbledore merely held out a hand, clearly wishing the boy to stop speaking.

"I know of what you did, Percy," he said, holding a hand toward the door. Penelope Clearwater stood there, an ashamed look on her face. "Miss Clearwater told me everything, not because she wanted to maliciously inform me, but because I met her in the hallway and asked this of her. She told me of how you had helped and I knew what would follow. Mr. Filch had seen Mr. Flint out of bed near the library and confirmed my fears as I headed here. I see you have taken care of that problem."

He looked down into the bottom of the pool and saw the crumpled heap that was the Slytherin quidditch captain. He frowned on this sight and turned to Penelope.

"Miss Clearwater," he said gravely. "Would you kindly go down into the dungeons, where, if I'm not mistaken, you will find Professor Snape working."

"At this hour, Professor?" she asked, eyeing her watch nervously. It was four o'clock.

"Yes, I'm quite sure." He replied warmly. It was clear that visiting Severus Snape under any circumstances was not favorable, even for the Head Girl. She cast one sad look at Percy before the swish of her cloak indicated she was gone.

The Headmaster then turned to the girl, lying on the floor. He bent over her and looked down into her dark eyes. She smiled up at him.

"Hello Professor," she choked out.

"Hello Miss Malloy," he smiled weakly. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better thanks to Percy here," she smiled fondly at the Head boy.

"Be that as it may," he began. "I am sure you have been through a lot to have attempted such a horrific thing. I'd just like to tell you, that, if you care to talk to the ghosts some time, they will all tell you the same thing. Death is not like life. There is no color; there is no happiness. Our very own Nearly Headless Nick has told me on several occasions that being undead is like being constantly hungry and knowing that you will never eat again. Moaning Myrtle, who I've been told comes here quite often has even been quite happy about death. Though she enjoys tormenting students, she once again longs to live and grow older as she has never experienced even her first kiss or receiving her apparition license."

"I know that now, Professor," she said, looking into the older man's eyes.

"Do you now?" he said, slightly amused and slightly worried. His face looked tired and quite old in the torchlight.

"Yes," she said with a final tone to her voice. She then turned to the red- haired boy that stood back in the light, watching this scene unfold. "Some things are just worth living for."

Dumbledore looked from Xanne to Percy and back again before straightening himself up once more. He walked towards the door and through it came Professor Severus Snape, wearing an expression that Xanne was happy she would not have to endure. Behind him was Penelope Clearwater, looking rather relieved. Snape walked briskly over to the pool and levitated the body of the boy out of it and bringing him down rather harshly on the tile floor.

"Enervate," the teacher's deep voice snapped irately as he held his wand down on the boy. Flint awoke, massaging his wounded head slightly.

Xanne looked away from this, not wanting to have anything to do with the boy. She looked up and found Percy looking down on her again, but kneeling instead of standing. He looked at her with an expression of utmost emotion.

"Did you mean what you said?" he said, taking her hand into his. His blue eyes looked strong and blissful.

"I did," her brown eyes twinkled with the yellow of the light. "Some things are worth living for. And one of them is having you as a friend."

He smiled and leaned down, hugging her tightly. He took care not to hurt her head. Xanne braced her arms and pulled herself up, standing once more. She looked over to see Snape reprimanding Flint.

"I know you boy, and this is not the fault of that girl! I have good reason to believe that this all just a jealous whim of yours."

"But sir!"

"Silence!" he spat, the boy winced. "I will not take points from Slytherin, as not to increase the hardship for this girl. But I will make sure that you are suspended from quidditch. I happen to know a great candidate for captain."

He spun on his heel and faced Xanne, his face changing instantly. He had looked at the boy with nothing but fury, but changed to caution as he addressed the girl.

"That is, if you want to." He said quietly. She merely shook her head.

"Though if you'll let me, I have someone in mind who would take the job, as well as a spot on the team." The Potions master looked clueless. "Terrence Higgs was kicked off the team when Draco Malfoy joined. He's a prefect and would be worthy of the title, as I recall, Marcus got it over him the first time around."

Snape nodded curtly before turning and looking down on the Slytherin boy once more. His face had again reverted to the anger it had previously conveyed.

"Terrence Higgs will replace you," he snapped. "Maybe now Slytherin will win a few games. And don't think you're getting off that easy either. You will report to me every day after your classes are through. The dungeon hasn't been remodeled in a long time and I think I've just found the manual labor I need to fix it."

Flint still looked dazed from his head injury. Xanne felt a bit sorry for him, it wasn't his fault he was raised to be a jealous prat. But, on the other hand, it was his fault he couldn't change himself. Percy helped her up to her feet.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Clearwater," Dumbledore turned and addressed them. "I would like you two to escort Miss Malloy to the hospital wing. I daresay Madam Pomphrey should have a look at that head. And Severus," he turned to Snape. "As much as Mr. Flint deserves punishment, he also must be tended to. That is a nasty bump on the head he received."

"Yes Headmaster," Percy, Penelope and Snape all replied in chorus. They left the bathroom promptly and Dumbledore paused to look around.

After retrieving the pillow off of the floor and cleaning up the bit of blood that Marcus Flint had left on the bottom of the pool, he made his way out of the door as well.

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[Don't you wish you knew what Dumbledore was thinking at that exact moment?]