"Has anyone seen Professor Binns?" Vega asked suddenly.
"With the ghosts fading, I doubt he's too in touch with the world of the living at the moment." Dethol replied.
Draco fumed, "We're getting nothing done by sitting around here!" He exclaimed.
Suddenly, Oliver bloody Wood, brilliant Quidditch teacher and absolutely adored pretty-boy half-hero of the war reappeared. Wow, Draco thought, I must be more irritated than usual, to actually call him that mentally.
"She's gone." The red-head said brokenly, his shoulders shaking, "She left back in October and no one has seen her since..."
"She's a tough witch, Oliver," Seamus, idiotic fire-starting Gryffindor, said in what he thought was a soothing tone.
"She's gone, Seamus!" Oliver cried, dropping heavily into a chair and holding his head in his hands. "Missing for four months? No chance she's still alive!"
"I'm sorry, Oliver," Bill said sadly, looking at a loss for words.
Draco seethed. Not at them, for once, but at the monster he called father. He could have at least rid the wizarding world of someone they hated! Like one of the Creeveys! No, wait... that was already done. Corner! Michael Corner! Why not that idiotic bloke? He crossed his arms and glared at the fireplace without saying a word as the others tried to soothe Wood's woes.
Snape returned from the dungeons. "A Dampening Draught with the blood of someone who had a strong relation to the place you want to have the magic dampened in along with an incantation clarifying which place you choose." He said instantly, "The more blood, the more powerful, I'm afraid."
"Katie loved Hogwarts..." Wood moaned.
Snape stared at him with a look of surprise, making Draco smirk at his old teacher. Before he could comment, however, someone else returned in the middle of the room with the help of a portkey.
"Cho has gone into hiding with a Secret Keeper," Ginny said swiftly, "Mum and Dad are putting up wards around The Burrow, but they'll probably move... elsewhere."
Draco raised an eyebrow. The matter was so grave that they were considering Grimmauld Place? Then again, it was owned by Tonks now... but it had not been used for over eleven years. He, for one, would not go back and live in the dank house without airing it out. They had not managed to get Mrs. Black's portrait off the wall before they abandoned it, though Kreacher had died by then. Thus, the house was in ruins once again.
Should we be this worried about my father? He thought, as he took in the strained faces, Yes, He concluded, Yes, we should. He killed Bell, after all. He'll kill others.
Dethol sighed. "It's about lunch time, should we head to the Great Hall?"
Oliver looked at him, his face paper white and his eyes bloodshot. "Go on ahead, I'll... I'll stay here."
"Want me to tell August?" Ginny offered kindly.
"No, no," The Quidditch professor sighed, putting his head back in his hands, "I'll tell him."
Everyone voiced encouragement as they passed, leaving the staff room for the Great Hall. As they emerged into the hallways, they all put on brave masks as if nothing were wrong. Draco looked at Wood and managed to grip his shoulder in silent encouragement, earning a weak smile in return. They would have to live through this. They had lived through worse.
Zephari sat, stunned, on the floor of the boys' dormitory. The first year Gryffindors had gathered in the only room all of them could access and were animatedly discussing what it could all mean; all of them except Zephari. They all had their own theories as to what was happening, except for Zephari. She did not need to guess, because she knew.
She could not help but feel guilty. She had caused all this pandemonium, after all. But it alarmed her that the magic of those in the castle really was fading. She had asked around and the majority of the older students reported that they felt rather funny as well, especially the seventh years. Fern and Willow looked positively green when she had asked them.
Fern walked into the room, looking even worse, "Have any of you seen August?" She asked weakly.
They all shook their heads, yet Zephari stood up. "Is something wrong?" She whispered to her cousin, stepping outside with her.
Fern shook her head, "I don't know, Zeph, but August's dad has asked me to bring him to his office." She replied.
"This isn't natural." Zephari murmured, "The adults didn't notice because they haven't been using serious magic recently."
Fern sighed, "Don't worry, Zeph, they'll figure it out." She said, giving her a hug before going up the stairs some more.
"You alright, Zephari?" Zoë asked worriedly as she walked back into the circular room.
"No." Zephari groaned, sitting down and leaning against Liam's bed with her head in her hands. "I feel sick, which doesn't make sense as we haven't been trying to do anything big."
"You look as drained as Fern and Willow." Dante observed.
"But it doesn't make sense..." Zephari grumbled, running her hands through her hair.
They stayed silent until the bell rang. Zephari did not feel hungry in any way. It was quite the opposite, actually. However, she stood up with the help of Zoë and Liam, who walked beside her down to the Great Hall. She felt slightly guilty for making her friends worry so much about her but was too busy trying to fight down her nausea to experience the feeling fully.
"Hey... Professor Wood isn't up there." Liam murmured.
"And August isn't at the table." Dante whispered.
Zephari groaned as she sat down, placing her head in her hands, resting her elbows on the table, as soon as she could. "He's married to Katie Bell." She told the others weakly, "She went to Russia over the summer and was due home for Christmas. Aunt Angelina told me so. She didn't come home in time."
"So you think that... she... she..." Dante faltered horribly.
"Lucius Malfoy's one of the last Death Eaters from Voldemort's inner circle that is still free." She muttered, "He would want revenge on Uncle Harry. He would go after those Harry cared for. Katie and Harry were rather chummy in school and she was far away from home..." Zephari mumbled, not listening.
"Oh sweet Merlin..." Natasha murmured.
All those who had heard, which were just her fellow first years, looked completely stunned. Zephari felt as if she were about to retch. She bent over her plate, staring at its shiny state though not seeing anything. Her ears were ringing and blood was pounding in them as well, not to mention her throat felt constricted.
"Zephari?" A voice said nearby.
"Zeph? Zephari." Another called, shaking her shoulder.
She looked in the direction of the shoulder-shaker, seeing Zoë's worried face.
"Zephari, if you could come with me," A smooth voice asked behind her.
She nodded numbly and stood up, proceeding to topple over and vomit all over whoever's shoes. She sat down again and stared up at Draco Malfoy's disgusted – yet worried – features. "Sorry." She croaked.
"Scourgify." He commanded and her mess vanished from the floor, his shoes, her shoes and her chin. "Come with me." He repeated.
She stood up shakily and he held her elbow so that she would stay upright. He brought her not to his office, but to the hospital wing. She looked quizzically at him, though the sudden movement made her stomach lurch uncomfortably. He sat her down on a bed and Madam Patil came to see her instantly.
"Can you speak?" She asked Zephari.
The girl opened her mouth to say she could, then her stomach gave another heave and she shook her head, making it lurch again. "Bucket," She managed to say.
"What?" The matron asked, not understanding the significance.
"She's going to vomit again." The professor growled, "Where are the buckets?"
Zephari heard his footsteps moving away, so the matron had obviously pointed him the right direction. She fell back, feeling faint and weak. She was also infuriated with herself for being so weak. Nobody else was fainting or being sick. Fern looked as miserable as she felt, but she did not have to be taken to the infirmary. She opened her mouth to say something and was extremely glad that Draco had shoved a bowl into her grasp at the last moment.
The matron bustled about and gave her a potion. "This is to make you rest and sleep," She said, "You're to drink it all in one gulp. Don't be like your father and just drink half of it. Your mother was always a good patient, drinking it as she was told."
"Will it make her stop... divulging her stomach contents?" Draco asked carefully.
"Yes, if she can drink it all down." Madam Patil replied.
"Patil... Padma Patil..." Zephari muttered to herself, lying back against the pillows and feeling much better now that she had gotten that out of her system. "You went to the Yule Ball with my granddad."
The matron's mouth tightened slightly, "Drink your potion, Miss Black." She ordered.
Draco, however, was smirking. "Ha! Even the students know about that fiasco with the weasel."
Zephari nearly spilt her potion, unable to lift it. The nurse held it for her and she drank it all at once. She coughed slightly. "Vile." She muttered. "Completely vile,"
The woman laughed slightly, "Yes, but it does the job."
Zephari leaned back comfortably. "Not sick anymore..." She mumbled before dropping off to sleep.
"Bill, I think the seventh years should leave the school and go to Hogsmeade." Dethol said softly, pacing back and forth in front of the Headmaster's desk.
The eldest Weasley son sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, "Zephari is only the first to be so sick. Luckily Padma is keeping her asleep with that potion. Fern and Willow aren't doing all too good, either." He said, more to himself than to Dethol, he supposed. "Yes, I'm afraid we have no other choice."
It had been a week since Zephari had fallen so ill. Her magical energy was not used to being so compressed and whenever she woke, she simply dry-retched constantly. Dethol had gone to visit the ward that afternoon only to be informed that Zephari had not woken for thirty-six hours.
"You are aware, then, that she has slipped into a coma of sorts?" He asked.
Bill Weasley looked up sharply, "So soon?" He exclaimed.
Dethol nodded, "She hasn't woken for thirty-six hours; Padma supposes that she won't be waking until this matter is fixed." He admitted.
Bill sighed and Dethol noticed the lines marring his otherwise handsome features. Not that he thought Bill handsome, but that was what Fleur told him whenever he was at The Burrow at the same time as her. And why was he affirming the fact that he was heterosexual to himself? He rolled his eyes inwardly and brought his attention back to the matter at hand.
"If we send her to Hogsmeade, will she awake?" The Headmaster asked, looking him straight in the eye.
"We don't know. It's not safe there, she should remain at Hogwarts." He answered truthfully. "The thing is: How can we counter it?"
"Severus and Draco are dealing with that at the moment." Bill replied slowly.
"If it's a spell and potion, there has to be something that's keeping it in motion. Nothing lasts forever, especially not a spell or a potion's effects. The longest lasting spell was three months, potion was four months. It's been more than that, so they have to have a key... a source... something to keep it." Dethol thought aloud, "But what would they have? It would be formed when the spell or potion was completed, so it could not be anything they had before...
"Do we have anyone undercover with the Death Eaters?" He asked suddenly.
"What?" Bill asked, shocked, "No, we pulled out all our undercover people before open conflict."
"Damn." Dethol said before letting off a string of curses.
"What good would that have given us?" Bill demanded.
Dethol stared at him. "What good?" He repeated, his voice rising, "What good? God damn you, Bill! Every good! Having someone undercover would have let us know what the key was! Or they would have warned us!"
"Well we don't, so we need to find another way to find out what the key is." Bill snapped.
"And what do you suppose we do? Go all Gryffindor and storm in there with trumpets blaring to announce our arrival?" Dethol demanded.
"Well we can't just stand here!" Bill snarled.
Suddenly, Dethol had an idea. "No... no we can't..." He said quietly.
Bill stared at him, obviously prepared to make another angry retort. "What?" He asked.
"We can't barge in like Gryffindors, but we can't just stand around. We need cunning, but not just cunning... cleverness as well."
"What are you saying, Dethol?"
"Headmaster, I believe that because classes have been cancelled in this school I am not necessary for it to function at this point. Therefore, I kindly request that you accept my leave of absence for an undetermined amount of time."
Without giving Bill a chance to respond, Dethol stood up and left the room. He went down the spinning stairs, past the gargoyle and out the front steps. He knew what he was going to do. He ignored Zoë's anxious voice as he ran down the steps and strode across the lawn.
"Dethol!" She cried, probably for the hundredth time as she tugged at his sleeve, "Where are you going?" She demanded.
He tried to brush past her, but another set of hands had latched onto his other sleeve.
"Where are you going?" Dante demanded; her face livid with anger, "You can't leave! You're like a father to Zephari! You can't abandon her!"
This brought him to a state of mind good enough to answer vaguely.
"I'm going to help her." He said quietly, "Now let me go, I have to go."
The girls stared at him in shock and he took advantage of the moment to push free of them and leave the grounds. Without letting himself think, he prepared himself to Disapparate. He turned and looked back at the castle through the gates.
I'm going to save the world. He thought, vanishing.
Zoë stared after Dethol, "He's going to help her?" She repeated, incredulous.
"How dare he abandon her like this?" Dante demanded.
Zoë had never seen her friend so livid. Dante looked ready to hex Dethol, if she had not been strictly warned not to use magic. She might have even forgone that. Never tickle a sleeping dragon, said the motto of Hogwarts. Zoë knew a better piece of advice: Never insult a Weasley. Then your life was mostly forfeit.
"He's going to help her." Zoë repeated, firmer this time.
"Why not somebody else?" Dante asked.
"Because Dethol is stubborn, and he's a Ravenclaw." Zoë told her, feeling better now that she was trying to ease her cousin's anger, "He can devise a plan to save her, and it'll work. I heard that the Sorting Hat nearly couldn't decide where to put him. In the end, he told it where to put him. However, it took a little longer with Zephari."
"He had better come back." Dante growled, "Even if he saves her, he has to come back."
Zoë nodded, "Say, have you see August at all since...?"
Dante shook her head, "Colin says he's hidden in his room ever since... He won't talk to anyone."
Zoë sighed, "I'll go see him."
Dante looked evenly at her. Zoë was certain that her currently green-haired comrade was going to tell her off and say it was best to leave him alone. Dante avoided confrontations constantly while Zoë relished in them. However, that was not what she planned to do.
"Good idea." She said, smiling, "You're just the person to do so."
Zoë stared at her, mouth open and gaping.
Dante giggled slightly, "Go on, go talk to him." She urged, pushing her up the grounds.
Zoë left her friend at the door to the Great Hall then proceeded up to the seventh floor. She entered the Gryffindor dormitories with a muttered Expecto Patronum to the Fat Lady. She then went up the stairs to where she knew the third year boys' room was.
She rapped on the door with her knuckles, "August?" She called.
No response.
"It's Zoë." She added.
Again, she got no response.
"Can I come in?" She asked.
The door opened and she saw August lying in his bed, staring blindly up at the ceiling. She moved in and sat beside him. He continued to stare up at the ceiling, his brown eyes fixed on one point. She saw they were bloodshot and that his nose was slightly red.
"They found her body, you know." He said hoarsely, "Not in Russia. It was delivered to our house. Our house; like she was nothing more than garbage to toss on our doorstep."
"At least you get to bury her." Zoë reminded him.
He looked at her, surprised. "Her throat was cut, her hands still bound and not a stitch of clothing on her. She was covered in bruises and scars and cuts. They tortured her." He moaned, lying back again.
"She probably went out fighting." The girl told him, "If she had a choice as to how, she probably would have chosen to go down like that, other than having given in."
"You didn't even know her!" He spat.
"I didn't know my father, but I've heard enough about him to assume such! And if you think your mum is never talked about my family, you're wrong!" She replied waspishly.
"Why would Chang talk about my mum?" He demanded, glaring at her suddenly.
"The Weasleys are my family too, you know." She told him, "And I'm pretty sure you and your dad would be welcome, if you would be able to stand it."
He glared at her and she glared back. They stayed that way for a while before he sighed and stared up at the ceiling again. She watched him for a while, not really knowing what to say. She had never been the comforting one; that had always been an adult's job. She had been the one that needed comforting.
"I know how it feels. The best thing you can do is remember how they lived, instead of hating them for dying, or going after those who killed them." She said quietly after a while.
"So I should just forgive those bastards?" He demanded.
"No, you should just not seek revenge or dwell on it forever." She answered, "Good wizards have died of misery due to that."
He looked at her, "You don't hate the Death Eaters for what they did to your dad and grandparents?" He asked.
"Oh, I hate them. I wish they would be stabbed a thousand times before they died." She said fervently, "But that doesn't mean I'll go after them and try to hurt them myself, nor will I obsess over it. Our loved ones wouldn't want us to be like that, they would want us to go on."
August sighed and looked back at her. Neither spoke again for a while. She felt him twine his fingers with hers and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
"Thanks." He whispered.
Zoë smiled and gave him a hug, "You're welcome." She answered, "And don't tell anyone I hugged you, 'cause Zephari would make fun of me and Dante would act all smug and probably imitate you for a week."
August laughed and hugged her back, "Thanks, Zoë."
"Want to come down to supper?" She asked, "You can sit with us, too." She added shyly.
He smiled at her, "I'd like that."