Eric counted his bruises while sitting in the dark with all his shattered posessions. He figured that this was inevitable, for it probably wasn't the most diplomatic thing to do to cheer against his house for their bitter rivals. However, Eric was sick of hiding. He was sick of doing everything in secret, sick of having to disguise the fact that he liked people everyone else in his house hated, and sick of being a pariah in the school because of the colors he wore.
Knowing what he was in for spared his wand from getting shattered – he had given it to Midget for safe keeping – but that didn't spare everything else he had worked on or his etremely sore ribs. All the gear he had collected over the years was dropped seven flights down the stairwell right after they had re-arranged themselves. They had sailed clear to the bottom and had shattered against Hogwart's impervious foundations. All his books were torn apart, and everything was ruined beyond repair.
As bad as that was, the beating he got from Crabbe and Goyle was worse, and certainly didn't leave him pretty. One punch or kick for every point that Gryffindor got – with an extra five ( or was it ten? Eric lost count after a bit ) for helping Katie Bell. Eric couldn't help but admire his tormentors, though. They had really thought this all through to the last detail, and everything was done in such a way as to keep them from being caught. There wasn't a shred of evidence that could point back to any one of them other than Eric's word, which would simply have caused him more pain.
It'd be a good idea to get to the hospital wing, but he just didn't feel like it. He didn't feel much like anything at that point except being where he was, sitting in the dark, and just letting everything go for a while. He wasn't sure what he was going to do now. He couldn't go back to Slytherin – they'd just beat him up again. He never heard of a student going to Hogwarts who wasn't part of one of the four houses. It looked like his next move would be out of Hogwarts and out on the street. It was a forbidding prospect to be sure, but at the moment, it was better than what was behind him.
The thought occurred to him that his injuries might even kill him. The part that made him sad, though, was that dying didn't seem all that bad. The worst that would happen is that he'd be another Hogwarts ghost; that would mean hanging about like Myrtle, or even hanging about with Myrtle. Compared to what he had been through the last several months, spending an afterlife with a friend looked downright cheerful.
Eric lost track of exactly how long he had sat there when he heard a noise; no, two noises. Two figures were sneaking about in the dark. Eric painfully tucked himself back into an alcove to avoid being seen before he could make out these new intruders.
"Are you sure it was supposed to be here?"
"On the north wall at the base of the staircase – push the third red brick from the top over and it opens."
"Hey, what do you make of all this?" A tall, lanky figure moved cautiously into the light, revealing the Weasley twins on yet another secret passage hunt. At least it wasn't a Slytherin follow-up party.
Eric came out from the shadows. "It's my gear, at least it was."
Fred ( or maybe George ) looked over to him. "Cor, you gave me a start – good grief, what happened to you?"
"A bit of house discipline, I guess." Eric slumped onto a pillar and slid to the floor.
George ( or Fred ) started up the staircase. "Stay with him; I'll get help."
Eric gave up trying to figure out which Weasley had stayed with him – just having the company was an improvement. He tried not to move too much or breathe too hard, but the aches were slowly getting worse.
"Don't worry, we'll see you straightened out. We always have, right?" Eric couldn't argue. He first crossed the Weasley's path two years ago, and they had taken him in sort of as another little brother. Eric took to the role eagerly; the little lookout, watching the hall for instructors while the twins worked out every last nitche and corridor that Hogwarts could offer. The booty coming back from Hogsmeade wasn't half bad, either. That had stopped when he entered Slytherin house; he had forgotten how much he missed it.
Eric's companion shifted uneasily. The imposing silence must have bugged him. "You know, Katie was going on after the game how surprised she was that you didn't poison her."
Eric grimaced at the thought. "That's hardly fair, poisoning an injured opponent you're supposed to be helping; not to mention unsportsmanlike."
"Don't act so surprised. You know the reputation of the Slytherins better than anyone."
"I don't give a shriveled peel about what people think of Slytherin House. I had hoped you knew me better."
"Just because we do, doesn't mean anyone else does."
Eric was suddenly confused. "If that's true, why have you been avoiding me?"
"What would your house have said of you spending time with two Gryffindors? Fred and I thought you had enough problems as it was. We didn't want to make it worse."
Eric smirked at the thought. "Gee, George, that really worked well." He laughed for a second, before his bruised ribs protested the action.
Fred came back with the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, as well as a few first-year stragglers. Eric immediately recognized them as Harry's circle; Ron, Hermoine, and Neville Longbottom. For a moment, they all looked about at the devistation with sickening amounts of pity before they started gathering the pieces together. All of them except Katie Bell.
"Good heavens, who did this to you – and what's the matter with you two?" Katie reeled against Fred and George as if they set her broom on fire. "Can't you see he needs help right now?"
Eric started to panic. Help meant questions, questions meant answers, and answers probably meant more beatings. "Please, I just need to…"
Katie turned back to him with a glare that would stop a dragon. "You shut up. Just thank heaven that you're still able to breathe. Fred: get that plank, it should be long enough. You and George will take him to the hospital. I'll go on ahead and warn Madame Pomfrey."
"She'll want him to explain. Isn't that going to make things worse than they are?"
"If he turns much more purple than this, things won't be able to get any worse." There was no arguing, for Katie was adamant.
Oliver Wood did his best to take charge. "Don't worry about your stuff – we'll tend to it." Eric would've been more concerned about it all, but given what it had been through, there wasn't much harm that could be done to it.
When Eric entered the hospital, he found more than Madame Pomfrey waiting for him. The second she saw him, her expression changed from a confident expectation to shock. "Oh, my word! Who could've been so harsh? Into bed with him."
Pomfrey's nursing skills were unquestioned, and the potions she offered had their desired effect. Within an hour it was as if nothing had happened, and Eric was ready to leave, only he wasn't permitted. "Really, Ma'am, I'm much better."
"I'll hear none of it, young man. You've clearly been through quite an experience, and a night of rest is most certainly in order. Unless, of course, you have a more comfortable resting place awaiting you?"
That stopped Eric cold. True, he felt like a lump lying about in the hospital when there was nothing wrong with him, but unfortunately he couldn't think of any place other than Myrtle's lavatory to turn to. Under the circumstances, a cot in the hospital was the most welcoming place he had. Therefore, he slumped back into the cot while two partitions were set up to give him some privacy. He thought the day would end boringly enough, but he was actually overrun with visitors.
Harry Potter was the first. He had found Eric's flying cloak in his broken gear. He was really grateful for the suggestions Eric had given him, though he couldn't figure out why Eric wasn't playing for Slytherin. That was easy to explain. "If you hated your entire team and thought they were scum, would you want to be out there playing with them?"
Fred and George were next, full of well-wishes and moral support while they were being watched. As soon as Madame Pomfrey's back was turned, though, they whipped out a makeshift map, begging for notes and directions. Eric couldn't help but be amused, so he relented and filled in a few details, adding a total of three new corridors to the Weasley's already impressive catalog of secret passages. They left with a smirk and a promise to take him along on their next foray to Hogsmeade. Eric promised himself not to be disappointed if they forgot.
Next came Katie, Alicia and Angelina, with Oliver Wood hovering in the rear like some sort of chaparone. Eric couldn't help but chuckle at the amusing scene. They'd brought him a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans. "We're pretty sure we picked out all the nasty ones, and we took a collection – a little ghost told me you like the strawberry."
Even Myrtle came out of the plumbing after dark. She was really sorry for all he'd been through, but couldn't keep herself from being overjoyed that he was out of Slytherin tower. "I know how much it hurts to get rejected, but think how much better off you are."
Eric smirked at Myrtle. "Actually, once they got through the hundred and seventy five blows, the rejection really didn't bug me that much." Myrtle broke into a giggle-fit before the crashing sounds of footsteps chased her off.
He had already figured out who his next guest was even before hearing him. "I don' think this is such a good idea, Perfessor. The boy needs his sleep an' all."
"Come come, Hagrid. Pretty much everyone else involved has come by to give their regards. You don't want to be left out, do you?"
Hagrid's massive form peeked out from the side of a curtain. "Um, hello Eric, me and Perfessor Dumbledore here…" Hagrid stuttered and stopped, for Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. He looked about uncertainly before sitting down onto the next cot, the springs screaming in protest.
It was hard to imagine Hagrid disturbed about anything, but he shifted about nervously as if something was about to bite him. "Look, Eric, I've been kinda bad to you lately. You got picked up by Slytherin an', well, I got upset about it. Y'see, I got a history with them, an' it just felt like you left me to go off with the bunch that got me in trouble. Only now I see that it wasn't you that left at all; it was me. I left you to fend for yourself in the middle of that snakepit. I'm sorry boy, I'm really sorry."
Hagrid struggled to look proper while his massive bulk shuddered with sniffling. In reply, Eric didn't say anything. It was far easier to give Hagrid a hug and bury himself in the depths of his coat to hide his own tears.
After a shaky goodbye, Hagrid wandered back off into the hall, charging Eric to rest and get his strength back. Eric waited until he was gone before finding his clothes and digging out a silver training whistle. He blew a five-note pattern on it, and his owls dutifuly responded by bringing his wand back to him. Checking it over, he praised his charges for their excellent care of it.
Eric thought to himself: the well-wishers have been through, Hagrid's apologized, he had his wand back, what was left? Suddenly, it hit him. "I know you're around here somewhere. I'd prefer you in front of me and visible."
A sound of gathering wind heralded the appearance of Willy. "Oh, young master, Willy feels terrible. He should have been at your side defending you against those ruffians. Willy is disgraced, and can never be allowed before wizards again." His sorrowful eyes brought forth a torrent that endangered the woodwork's finish up to five feet away.
Eric, however, had no intention of letting this continue. "It's my fault too, Willy. If I hadn't gotten so wrapped up in my own problems, I've known enough to stay in touch. Can't we call it even?"
Willy looked up to Eric with an expression of pure adoration. "Willy abandons Eric in his time of need, yet young master wants Willy back?"
Knowing what too much kindness brings out of a house elf, Eric had to act quickly. "I would very much like a a cream puff, accompanied with three-quarters cup of cold milk."
Willy straightened up. "At once, sir, and thank you!" With a pop, he was gone.
Eric settled into his cot. His fences were mended, broken friendships were restored, and he had a cream puff on the way. After over two months of struggling, things were finally coming together.