Her eyes were closed, and although everything was foggy, she could feel her mind beginning to wake up. For a moment, she didn't know who she was and where she was at. Her limbs felt like they were filled with lead and her head felt as though someone had reached into her skull and hammered her brain from the inside... She wondered why she felt so terrible. Then it all came rushing back to her.
The staircases... something shaking... falling, lots of falling, and then... Harry. Harry! Was he okay? Had he fallen with her? Lucy felt her heart rate quicken, but her eyes wouldn't cooperate with her mind. She willed them to open, only to be met with a bright light. The white walls of the hospital wing were never the most pleasant sight to wake up to.
She tried to sit up, but a splitting pain at the side of her head nearly made her pass out again. Biting her lip, she stopped trying and instead tried to delicately turn her head to see if Harry was in any of the beds next to her.
"Don't move," a low voice warned. "You'll only make it worse."
Well, if that wasn't the most threatening thing ever. For a moment she thought the Heir had decided to kill her after all. Her worries disappeared when Tom appeared beside her. She could only see him out of the corner of her eye, but she relaxed knowing he was close by.
"Is—" her voice came out hoarse. It felt as though her vocal cords had been shredded, and each breath she took sent a stabbing pain into her side.
"Don't speak either," Tom said. She imagined he rolled his eyes at her. "You shouldn't be awake yet. That woman said she wanted you asleep until she could figure why her potions weren't working on you."
Her brow furrowed. The potions weren't working? That's why she felt so miserable...
"Not only are the potions not working, but you've managed to fracture your skull, break two of your ribs, one of which could have punctured your lung—" Tom broke off on his rant to take a deep, furious breath in. "And despite all this, I know you're about to ask me whether or not Potter is here."
"Well, yes," she managed.
He stood over her so that she could see the full effect of his glare. "I said don't speak— and he is not here, so don't bother looking. If anything, you should go back to sleep."
First she registered his glare, but then she took in the rest of his appearance. She'd gotten so used to seeing him as a slightly transparent person that his current form shocked her more than any of the injuries he'd just listed off to her. She could still make out his handsome face, but his form was... fuzzy, almost. Gray wisps fell off of him every so often, and she swore she saw him flicker once.
Now that she got a couple of words out, she could feel herself adjusting to the pain in her throat. It was bad, but the soreness in her head and ribs overshadowed it enough that she didn't care about it.
"Are you alright, Tom? You... you don't look so good."
He looked down at her incredulously. "I don't look good? You should see yourself. You look like a corpse."
She raised her eyebrows at him, silently telling him not to change the subject.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I know my form is different. There is nothing wrong with me; I have not returned to the diary for two days now. Do you know how many times that matron has left you alone, unguarded in the hospital wing? After an attempted murder, even— it's infuriating. And someone has to make sure that you don't get killed. So yes, I am a little weak looking at the moment."
She stared, for once at a loss for words. He'd exhausted himself that much, just to keep watch for her? She knew how irritating it must have been for him. Tom hated when he appeared less than human in anyway. Telling him he was a ghost or a spectre was the easiest way to piss him off for the rest of the day. Before this, whenever he felt even the slightest bit weakened, he'd retreat into the diary to regain his energy. And yet here he was nearly reverting to his indiscernible gray form
She desperately wanted to hug him. But she knew that even if she wasn't too injured to do so, he definitely wouldn't have appreciated it.
"I'm awake now, so... You should get some rest. Don't strain yourself," she said earnestly.
If anything, this only made him more angry. "Don't strain yourself? You are telling me not to strain myself? You are—" he grit his teeth, biting back some unpleasant response. In a tight, furious voice he said, "You had the time to jump to the next staircase and yet you wasted your time on Potter. You nearly died for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing," she argued. She forced herself to sit up and stare determinedly back at him. He held up his hand to stop her, but she sat up anyway. The stabbing pain in her side increased. "Taking care of your friends isn't nothing."
"It was for nothing! I watched you fall and when Potter reached you, he couldn't do anything. He called for help from a useless man like Lockhart, and then he watched you as you bled to death."
"It's not his fault if he's not a doctor—"
"I'm not a doctor either!" He snapped loudly. His image flickered and turned slightly static. Lucy watched worriedly as he appeared more transparent and unstable than before. "I am not a doctor either, Lucy! But I could have done something! I could have stopped the staircase from falling in the first place! I could've stopped those Bludgers, I could have found whoever sent you that note, I could have solved all of this if I wasn't a ghost, trapped in this damned book!"
His voice raised in volume until he was shouting at the end. The last sentence was completely distorted, like his voice had been run through multiple filters. He disappeared for a few seconds, and when he returned, he looked even less human than before. His form broke off in wisps not unlike a stormy cloud in the sky.
Lucy stared at him, her face clear of emotion. She wasn't afraid– certainly not. She felt terribly sorry for Tom... No matter how human he looked and how much she treated him as one, he was still the memory of a man preserved in a diary... When she pushed Harry off the platform, she hadn't thought about herself at all, but more importantly, she didn't stop to think how Tom would have been affected if she died. She was the only one who knew about him. If she died, no one would bother to open the diary, they might not even be able to find it, since it'd been in her enchanted bag when she fell.
"I'm sorry, Tom," she said sadly. Her honey brown eyes were wide and apologetic as she looked back at him. "I know you would've been able to help if you could... You're one of my dearest friends and I should've thought about what might've happened to you if I died. I'll be more careful from now on, I promise—"
The pain in her throat became too much to ignore, and she coughed into her arm, which in turn made her side explode with pain. Instead of sitting up, she slightly propped herself up on her elbow, gritting her teeth to keep from hissing out in pain.
When Tom was angry, it took awhile for it to ebb away. She knew he was still steaming under the surface, but he easily wiped away all traces of anger. He calmly walked back over and took his place back in the chair beside her. "There is no need to apologize, but I agree that you should be more careful," he said evenly. "No more heroics. You're not a Gryffindor. You should stay in your dormitory if you're not in class, but if you must leave, bring that Rickett boy with you. He's obnoxious but he seems to be the most capable of your associates."
She nodded along. She didn't want to stay in her empty dormitory all day, but now she understood the severity of what'd just happened. This wasn't a harmless prank, this was an act of someone who wanted her seriously hurt or killed.
"I've figured out why the potions are not working," Tom continued. "A couple seeds of moongrass mixed into your drink renders any potions ineffective for the next month..." He pursed his lips. "This had been planned ahead of time, obviously. There's no telling when it was planted."
"Why are they trying to kill me?" It was a question Lucy genuinely could not think of the answer to, no matter how much she wracked her brain. Not knowing the answer made her incredibly frustrated and sort of concerned. "I've annoyed loads of people, but this is a lot of effort for one person! I don't understand!"
"Neither do I, unfortunately," Tom frowned. "Keep away from the Slytherins for the time being. This person could be in any of the Houses, but mine is the most likely..." he opened his mouth to continue, but he suddenly looked toward the door to the Hospital Wing. "That woman is coming back..."
"Get some rest," Lucy said sternly. Tom stared at her, and she fixed him with a glare. "You're literally falling apart as we speak. No one is going to attack me in the hospital wing."
He looked like he wanted to tear into her for telling him what to do, but he thought better of it. He tilted his head at her. "I will... if you swear to stay in your dormitory after curfew."
That was an easy enough request. And if she had to do something at night, it wasn't like she couldn't break her promise. She opened her mouth to agree, but Tom pressed on further.
"And if I find that you have, I'll stay in my diary until this school year has ended. If you need something, you can write to me."
He grinned smugly at her surprised expression. "What?" He laughed. "You didn't think I'd just take your word for it? I know you better than you know yourself, Lucy. You can't hide anything from me."
She scowled at him, but she didn't get the chance to reply as Madam Pomfrey finally returned. Tom arched an eyebrow at her. "Well?" He said. "Will you listen to me?"
Without any opening to argue with him, all she could do was nod. Her glare at him certainly promised a further exchange about it. Tom flashed her a pearly white smile. She could see how satisfied he was at that moment, the bastard. He loved winning debates. It wasn't a very fair fight, considering her voice hardly worked and she was half-dead in a hospital bed.
Then again, Tom wasn't known for playing fair. As soon as she nodded, he flickered again. This time he didn't return.
Madam Pomfrey bustled over as soon as she noticed Lucy was awake. "Ms. Rochester, you aren't supposed to be awake yet," she fretted, feeling her forehead with her hand. "And what are you doing, sitting up? Lay down, lay down..."
Her skilled fingers reached and uncorked a swirling bottle of blue and purple, but then she stopped and sighed. "Oh, the potions aren't working! How could I forget... Good Merlin..."
"The potions aren't working?" Lucy repeated. She knew this already since Tom told her, but at least now she might be able to help the matron come up with a counter effect to it.
"Don't speak, dear. No, the potions are not working. I was just about to write a letter to St. Mungo's—"
That sounded like far too much trouble for Lucy's liking. She hastened to say, "I think I know why—" She broke off, coughing, but the thought of St. Mungo's getting involved made her press on. "Seeds- seeds of moongrass..."
Madam Pomfrey looked at her, shock clear in her gaze. "I have not heard of such a method in many years..." She strode over to the shelf near her office and pulled off an old, dusty book that looked like it had not been opened in decades. "Moongrass is considered an outdated ingredient, but I hadn't thought of its negative effects..." She thumbed through the book until she found the right page. Her eyes widened. "You may be right, Ms Rochester. I will have to discuss this with Professor Snape." She glanced up at the girl and said kindly, "Try and go back to sleep, if you can. I know the pain must be terrible, but now I might be able to whip up a solution..."
She turned and hurried out of the Hospital Wing. Lucy could hear her muttering to herself, "Moongrass... Yes, it's so subtle... Such a clever girl, she is..."
Lucy held back a grin. Although he'd technically just blackmailed her into submission, she couldn't help but feel grateful toward her friend. She often forgot how intelligent he was. He really was the smartest wizard of his age.
Now that Madam Pomfrey had left, Lucy tried to do as she instructed and fall back asleep. But without the distractions of Tom or anyone else, all she could focus on was the searing feeling in her side each time she took a breath in. It didn't help that the Hospital Wing was bright and silent, and though the doors were closed, she knew that at any given moment, someone could burst through...
A few hours passed, and there was still no sign of Madam Pomfrey. Her heart thumped louder in her chest as she imagined whoever was after her creeping through the doors while she was asleep. It would be so easy to kill her without witnesses... They could smother her in her sleep or slide a knife across her throat, or throw her out the window, or—
"You're still awake?"
Tom's voice was disapproving. She tore her gaze away from the doors to stare back at her friend. She wondered how he was already back to normal, but a quick glance at the grandfather clock told her that five hours had passed.
"I'm not really keen on getting murdered, despite what everyone believes," Lucy replied. She tried to keep her voice bright as always, but it sounded flat even to her own ears. Truthfully, she was scared. Hogwarts was supposed to be safe, and yet all she could imagine was how easy it had been to make her fall from two levels up. On staircases she walked up every day.
Tom sighed and reclaimed the seat next to her bed, crossing one leg over the other. He looked sideways at her. "You're not going to get murdered while I'm here," he said in a matter of factly way. "Even in my current state, I am still the most powerful wizard in this castle. No one will hurt you."
She didn't think she'd ever manage to fall asleep, but as soon as the words left Tom's mouth, she felt her eyelids begin to close.
"Go to sleep," he repeated. His deep voice became laced in venom. She barely heard it; he must have tried to say it to himself. "I would invite whoever is doing this to walk through those doors. It would be a mistake they would not get a chance to make a second time... but it would be so much fun for me."
She peeked one eye open to see him staring darkly toward the doorway. Somehow, this reassured her, and she fell asleep without another thought.
The next few days were not easy for anyone involved.
Especially Lucy.
While Madam Pomfrey concluded that the seeds of moongrass were, indeed, the reason the potions weren't working, they still hadn't come up with anything that might stop the effects of it in her system. This infuriated Tom to no end, and each time Madam Pomfrey and Snape were in the room, he'd spit such vile curses at them that it brought even Lucy to a pause.
A good deal of Tom's frustration stemmed from the fact that she now had to heal the Muggle way. Madam Pomfrey was bold enough to try and heal her ribs with a spell, but the moongrass's properties affected even that. The spell backfired completely and managed to break the rib even further. If Tom had a wand accessible to him, Lucy had no doubt he would have tried to murder Madam Pomfrey on the spot.
She was touched that he was concerned for her, but really, did his concern have to be so violent? If Madam Pomfrey did a single thing he didn't approve of, he'd launch into a furious rant. Lucy found it hard to focus when she had an angry spectre pacing back and forth all the time.
A week had passed, and she still wasn't allowed any visitors. Harry took it upon himself to deliver all her homework to Madam Pomfrey— which was a bit surprisingly, really, she'd expect Hermione to take on that role— and while Lucy begged for the matron to let him in, the woman was firm in her belief that she shouldn't have any visitors until they found a way to make the potions work. Tom actually agreed with her on this matter, and that frustrated Lucy further. She was stuck in a hospital bed all day and she couldn't at the very least have her best friend?
"I've had it," Lucy said. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration as she summoned a piece of parchment and a quill from across the room.
Tom looked up from the book she left open on her bedside table. Since he also needed a way to pass the time, he'd read from the book and whenever he was ready to turn the page, he'd tap on the table and with a flick of Lucy's wand, the page would turn. It was unconscious at this point.
"What are you doing?" He was already annoyed even though he didn't know what she was up to.
"I'm done being stuck in this bed, and Snape's useless, so I'm writing to Mallory. Maybe she'll have a cure. If not, I'm betting on her busting me out of this prison."
"It's not a prison, it's the hospital wing," he said with a roll of his eyes. "It's not such a bad thing that you're stuck here. At least this way, you won't manage to get yourself killed."
She hoped that turning her head to face him would show just how unappreciative she was of his input. By the way he gave her an offended look, she succeeded.
"I'm sure if you were confined to the hospital wing, you'd be pleased," she said sarcastically.
"I wouldn't have been injured in the first place." He peered over to read her letter and frowned at what she wrote. "Lucy, that's terrible. Rewrite it."
She looked down at what she had so far:
I've been kidnapped by a horde of angry scientists and I need your IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE. This is NOT a drill, they are evil and will not let me go—
"I thought it was appropriately urgent," she said innocently.
He glared at her until she conceded, crumpling up what she had. She grabbed another piece of parchment and began again. "You know," she said as she scribbled her letter, "Parchment is just not pleasant in any capacity. Do you know how hard it is to cut it evenly once you're done writing? At a certain point you've just got to get over aesthetics and start ripping it at the bottom; reaching into your bag for a slicer just isn't efficient and it's not like I can pull out a pair of muggle scissors without the Slytherins losing their minds over it. Now, before you give me that look, I'm not knocking on your precious pureblood beliefs, I just want to know what time we as a magical species took a look at the Muggles distributing lined paper and typewriters and thought... 'No, I'd rather use a scroll'. But that brings me to another point, where there are some obvious advantages for parchment. The aesthetic is very pleasing and it's easy to feel Wizardly when you're writing a letter using an owl and a quill. It's also useful for essays, all you've got to do is write big. But then again—"
"Lucy, good Merlin!"
She glanced up from her letter to stare innocently at him. "Hm?"
"That matron wonders why your voice is shredded all the time! Stop ranting about parchment. It's times like this I wish I had a body just so I could shut you up faster."
His words were scornful, but she smiled at him all the same. At least she'd finished her letter, and she knew Tom would secretly be pondering her speech later, even if she made it up on the spot out of boredom.
Her owl, Snape, had passed out on her headboard, but a quick whistle made him wake up and hop in front of her. He took the letter into his beak; he preferred that over her tying it to his leg. Since he was so little, it probably made him feel important.
"Fly fast, my precious boy. My sanity is at stake," Lucy told him sternly.
Snape hooted affirmatively and then flew as fast as his little wings would take him. She smiled after him. When she turned back to Tom, he looked grumpy as always.
"You need to cheer up," she told him.
"Do I?" He said in a completely monotone voice.
The way his eyes were cold and dark, she could see that he disagreed with her sentiment entirely. If she was anyone else, she might've backed down. She gathered from his stories about his time at Hogwarts that he was a force to be reckoned with. Probably even more than someone like Mallory. She pictured what might happen if he ever met the Heir, but she quickly saved that thought for another time. Right now, she had to get him out of this mood he was in.
"Yes, you do," she said firmly. She sat up and she was quite proud that she didn't show a hint of the burst of pain she felt. This was a conversation she needed to look capable for. "Maybe not cheer up, but you shouldn't let every little thing bother you so much."
"So I'm sensitive?" Tom repeated. His voice had a warning in it, one that promised his immediate displeasure if she continued any further.
She looked him in the eye. She was not so easily intimidated, especially not by the boy she spent every waking hour of the day with. "Yes, you are," she said bluntly. "Madam Pomfrey is doing her best. So is Snape, believe it or not. It's not their fault someone's out to kill me—" His glare darkened even further. "—and you seem to be forgetting, I have way more friends than enemies! Anthony's probably out there right now tearing down the school. My best friend is Harry Potter, the nosiest boy in the world. And you're the smartest one in this school, I'd reckon. If anyone's able to find out who's doing this, it's us. I'm not saying you have to skip around and throw flowers everywhere, but at least try and relax a little. I hate seeing you so upset."
He'd been silent throughout her speech, but she saw the ghost of a smirk when she'd mentioned he was the smartest. She knew his ego was the easiest way to shift his mood, but she hadn't meant to manipulate him like she would with a professor or another Slytherin.
After a few seconds of silence, the dark look in his eyes slowly faded away. "I suppose if it pains you that much..." he said emotionlessly. Lucy knew him well enough that she knew he was agreeing with her; he was too proud to outright say it.
While she was still nervous, she had faith in herself and her friends. Harry was nothing if not diligent, and she knew he was a lot more capable than people gave him credit for. Even with Lockhart's idiotic teaching, he still excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Heck, he'd been the first one to notice the platform was shaking. Both of them could have been injured if he wasn't so observant.
Thinking of her friend made her want to break out of the hospital wing, so she scooted over in her bed and picked up a Dark Arts book. It was risky keeping them in the hospital wing, but Tom would have been even more raving mad if he didn't have something. He'd told her how to swap the covers, so it currently looked like she was reading out of her first year History of Magic textbook.
"Wanna read?" She suggested, giving him a smile.
Tom blinked. Eventually, he sighed and shot her a wry smile. "That's all we can do, I suppose."
He took his place next to her, and they began their normal ritual of reading. The air was less thick than before, but every so often Tom would glance at the hospital wing door. Even if he didn't have a body, Lucy somehow knew that if her attacker stepped through those doors, nothing on this planet would be able to save them.
Madam Pomfrey should have known.
She should have realized.
Hogwarts was an ancient castle. It had countless wards. Powerful professors inside it. All of that and more, and yet she naively believed that she could keep Anthony Rickett out of the hospital wing.
Lucy watched as the matron sank into her swivel chair, putting her face in her hands. She shared a weirded out look with Tom before hesitantly asking, "Uh... Madam Pomfrey? Are you okay over there?"
"The castle is under attack, Ms. Rochester," Madam Pomfrey said grimly. She looked up, and Lucy could see the absolute fatigue in her eyes. "And I'm afraid it stems from you."
Lucy had absolutely no idea what she meant by that.
Before she could ask her, the doors to the hospital wing opened, and a very familiar face walked through. Draped in an expensive black cloak with green trimming was none other than Mallory Alpin, a silver cauldron in her left hand. She spared Madam Pomfrey a glance before looking over at Lucy, taking in her battered appearance.
Then she laughed. "Shit, you weren't kidding when you said you almost died! You look terrible, kid."
"Mallory! You actually showed up!" Lucy squirmed excitedly. She didn't want her time at Hogwarts to end, but she'd been dying to see the woman again. She'd been tempted to do so during easter holiday, although Tom probably wouldn't appreciate it.
"'Course I showed up. You're bloody lucky I'm the best potioneer in Britain, otherwise you'd be healing the muggle way." Mallory conjured up a table and placed her silver cauldron down on it. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out foreign ingredients Lucy had never even heard of. "Seeds of Moongrass? Really? It's a miracle you figured it out in the first place."
"What can I say?" Lucy grinned. "I'm a genius."
Tom sighed from beside her.
"I was gonna ask you what happened to you, but now a more pressing matter has come to mind. Why is there a teenage boy duelling about ten Slytherins right now?"
Lucy's smile slowly faded.
Oh, no.
"...What?"
Mallory looked at her like she was stupid. "A teenage boy. A wizard, I'd reckon. Out there in the courtyard. Duelling ten Slytherins. I thought I'd phrased it pretty well the first time, but then again, you're probably slow from whatever head injury you suffered at birth—"
"Would this boy happen to have brown hair and freckles?" Lucy pressed.
"Yeah. I take it, you know him?"
Anthony was on a warpath, Lucy realized. She hoped to God he didn't injure those Slytherins too badly— she didn't want to deal with their company.
"That's my mum," she said, half-awed and half-afraid.
Mallory scoffed as she dropped an ingredient into the bubbling cauldron. "I thought your mum was dead."
"Alpin!" Madam Pomfrey was aghast, but Lucy wasn't the least bit bothered.
"Technically, I don't know if she's dead, but since they dropped me off at an Orphanage when I was a baby, I'm going to go ahead and call it."
Lucy wasn't sure what she'd do if someone did show up and claim her as their daughter. Before last year, she dreamed of it every night, but now if it happened, she'd probably be more pissed off than anything. She raised herself these past twelve years, she didn't need anyone showing up halfway through trying to pick up the slack.
"Eh, enough about your tragic backstory." Mallory waved a dismissive hand at her that only made Madam Pomfrey even more shocked. Again, Lucy didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed the lack of pity. It made her feel normal. "Why do you look like death?"
Lucy told her all about the events of the past year. As she spoke, several Slytherins ended up in the hospital wing with various hexes that needed tending to. Most of them were a part of Flint's crew. She was half surprised that Flint hadn't been hexed either, but then again, he wasn't a terrible duelist. Despite his trollish appearance, he wasn't too dumb. His position as Quidditch captain attested to that. Adrian Pucey, on the other hand, had gotten a face full of boils, and he glowered over at Lucy as she quietly told Mallory the story. She kept lowering her voice; it wouldn't do for the story to get out to the other Slytherins. If her attacker caught wind, it might encourage them further.
Mallory noticed her shift in tone. It had just gotten to the exciting part— her note from the dwarf— when she caught Pucey's eye.
"The bloody fuck are you looking at?" Mallory said loudly. Pucey jumped about a foot in the air. She picked up her potions knife, wiping the ingredient's juice on her white shirt. Conveniently, it was red. "If you keep staring like that, you'll wish I cast an unforgivable on you. Got it?"
Tom looked approvingly at her while Lucy hid her face in her hands. All ten of the Slytherins were looking from her, to Mallory, then back to her.
"I- Uh—" Pucey stammered.
"Just get out of here before I hurt you. Fix your own damned boils," Mallory scowled. She stabbed her knife into the cutting board harshly, all the while keeping eye contact with him.
She didn't have to tell Pucey twice. Before Madam Pomfrey could protest, he dashed out of the hospital wing doors. The matron turned to glare at Mallory.
"You cannot threaten students," she said sternly.
"Can't I?" Mallory said, arching an eyebrow. "Looks to me like someone could try and kill my kid, so I don't see why I can't scare one of them away from her. Remember, Poppy, I wouldn't be here if your school's staircases hadn't utterly failed."
Madam Pomfrey didn't have a response to that. Lucy felt kind of bad, the matron was only doing her job, but she was more confused as to how Mallory already knew what had happened. "I didn't get to that part of the story," she pointed out.
"No shit. I got a letter about that as soon as it happened. Professor Vector and I are close friends."
Of course they were. Lucy nodded, accepting that as an answer. She was glad that Mallory chased Pucey out of the hospital wing. Aside from the unwanted attention, she really didn't need anyone glaring at her at the moment. It only served to make her more nervous. Anyone in Slytherin house could have attacked her, aside from the obvious few.
Madam Pomfrey treated the other Slytherins as quickly as she could, in case Mallory decided to bestow her wrath upon them as well. Lucy and Tom listened with amusement as Mallory told her stories about the past few months.
"Eric's so useless!" Mallory huffed. All the Slytherins had cleared out by now, and she was halfway done with her potion. "He keeps whining and moaning about how he's destined for 'great things'. He's twenty-five and this is his first job, not to mention, I saw his OWL scores. Didn't get a single O, and only one E, in History of Magic out of all things. Who gives a shit about History of Magic? He should be glad I hired him, yet he keeps doing dumb shit all the time. Caught him stealing from the register once, hence why I decked him in his stupid face."
"Couldn't he sue you?" Lucy wondered.
"I have dirt on half the men in the Wizengamot. There's no way it'd make it through the beginning stages."
Once again, Lucy was incredibly grateful she was on Mallory Alpin's good side.
She felt happier than she had all week, having someone else to talk to. Tom was her closest confidant, but his presence became suffocating when he was irritated. He was looking out for her in his own way. She just wished it didn't involve so many death threats.
Mallory explained each step of the potion. Her tone was disinterested, like she might as well have been recounting a story she read in the paper, but the way she explained everything was quite fascinating. Granted, Lucy was hopeless at Potions and didn't have any idea what she was saying, but seeing Tom's reaction told her that Mallory was very good at what she did. Tom eyed Mallory with quiet respect, and once she finished, he leaned over to inspect the potion.
"At last someone with a margin of skill arrives," he said dryly, shooting a glare toward Madam Pomfrey.
Right, Lucy was not going to let everyone hate on this woman. She caught Tom's eye, glared, then turned to the matron. "Madam Pomfrey, I would like to thank you for everything you've done for me and the other students at this school," she said in her most sincere voice.
Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Well, thank you, dear. I am just doing my job."
"And thank you for putting up with Mallory as well."
"Oi, I made you a potion, you shit!" Mallory whacked her upside the head, ignoring the fact that Lucy's skull was fractured at the moment. She hissed in pain. Mallory rolled her eyes. "You deserved that."
"Did not!"
Tom tried and failed to hide a smirk at her expense. For someone who freaked out every time Madam Pomfrey touched her, he was awfully smug.
Lucy was scowling as she took the potion into her hands. She examined it, and to her relief it didn't look gross at all. She took a long drink of the silvery liquid.
It finally seemed like things were looking up. After the potion, Madam Pomfrey tested it out and gave her a simple pain relieving potion. Lucy could have cheered when the sharp, aching pain in her side disappeared entirely. Tom's wrathful demeanor faded away too; he leaned against the wall, watching everything emotionlessly. It was a welcome change from him glaring all the time.
"When I find out who did this, they're dying twice for all this trouble," Lucy muttered.
Mallory snorted. "I'd like to know who's doing this, too. You know, when you showed up in my shop last summer, I didn't think you'd get into this much trouble. Is this normal for you?"
"Last year Voldemort and I were proper mates, so as long as it's not Voldy trying to kill me this year, I'd say it's not as troubling," Lucy said, shrugging.
"Run that by me one more time."
...Oh. Right, Lucy hadn't exactly told Mallory about her first year... It slipped her mind, honestly. She was too busy practicing magic in her shop, and when she did talk with Mallory, it was usually about her latest excursion with Harry over in Little Whinging.
"Riiiight... last year Voldemort was attached to the back of the Defense professor, Quirrell's head, he was trying to steal the Philosopher's stone, Harry stopped him, that's basically it."
Mallory stared at Lucy for a good minute. She didn't know whether or not to believe the kid or not, but given her innocent expression, it was a safe bet that she wasn't lying. Shaking her head, Mallory leaned up against the table. "Well. That's something. Got any other fascinating secrets, kid? Fight any dragons recently?"
"Only a troll, but that was months ago."
"If you keep talking, she's going to think you're lying," Tom called over to her. She looked toward him to see him giving her a stern look. "And you shouldn't go around telling people your secrets. Especially about the diary— no one, not even Mallory is allowed to know."
Well, Lucy wasn't that stupid. She didn't even tell Mallory the full story of Quirrell, anyway. She didn't want to go around telling any prying ears that she had been spying on Voldemort. He was out there lurking somewhere, and she didn't want to give the Dark Lord a reason to personally seek vengeance on her. She had enough trouble keeping Harry safe, she didn't want to have to worry about herself as well.
Lucy was amazed that in only three potions, she was mostly, if not completely healed. Madam Pomfrey warned her that there would be stiffness, and she shouldn't exert herself, but Lucy had warmed the matron up enough for her to let the girl leave.
She was practically skipping as she left the hospital wing.
"You look like an idiot, stop that," Mallory told her.
"I always look like an idiot, so no, I will not." To prove her point, Lucy continued skipping even more.
Mallory sighed and covered her face with her hands. "I regret healing you."
"Walk normally." Tom's voice was more stern than Mallory's. He glared down at her. "You're supposed to stay resting. In fact, you should return to your dormitory immediately."
Yeah, right. Lucy spent a whole week laying in bed— she was not about to go right back to that. She returned to a normal pace to keep Tom off her back, but she detoured to the courtyard to see just what in the hell Anthony was doing.
"You're staying?" Lucy asked, surprised as Mallory walked beside her.
"After Severus's next class, we're going to inspect a few wards again. Your current Defense Professor is supposed to, but Lockhart's a bloody idiot, so I agreed to help while I was still here. Hell, I'd probably be your teacher right now if it wasn't for the curse."
"The curse?" Lucy perked up. First she wanted to know what it was, and next she wanted to know how to cast it...
"There's a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Mallory explained with a disdained expression. "From what Severus has told me, the Dark Lord put a curse on the position after Dumbledore rejected his application. No one can keep the position for more than a year... Either they willingly resign, like I did, or something terrible happens to them."
Lucy's mind wandered to Quirrell's melted face, and a chill ran up her spine. How was that possible? She wondered what would happen to Lockhart, if that was the case... He didn't look like he wanted to quit anytime soon.
"So how many professors would that have been? It seems like a lot..."
Tom opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. Lucy gave him a strange look since he usually said what was on his mind, whether or not she wanted to hear it.
He raised his eyebrows at her and let a small grin curl at his lips. "It looks like you won't have to deal with Lockhart for much longer."
Oh, but he was so easy to trick! Lucy hoped that the next Professor would be an idiot as well, if not another murderer.
"Well, there's sort of a loophole to the curse. If a professor quits halfway through the year, a previous one can come back and substitute," Mallory continued. "I don't know if I believe it was the Dark Lord who put the curse in place, but the years have shown it to be true. And I think— bloody hell, is he STILL going at it?!"
Lucy followed Mallory's gaze to the entrance of the courtyard. She couldn't see anything yet, but sure enough, she could hear a commotion from up ahead.
She stepped through the archway, and at once she was met with a crowd of students. Professor Flitwick was there as well, trying and failing to budge through the circle surrounding... Anthony. Anthony Rickett stood on a wooden platform, shooting hexes at five opposing Slytherins. And what was even more bizarre was that he was winning.
"RICKETT! STOP THIS MADNESS!" Daisy yelled at him. Lucy wondered why she wasn't cursing him, but then she noticed the extra wand in Anthony's back pocket... he had thought ahead.
"Why are you even doing this, you git?!" Cedric demanded.
"One of these bastards tried to kill my little lady, and if they won't step forward, I'll take them all out one! By bloody! One!"
Anthony's teeth were gritted. A bead of sweat had long since formed on his forehead. Taking a look around the courtyard, Lucy could see several Slytherins laying around, nursing various injuries.
"A friend of yours, I take it?" Mallory said dryly.
"...Should I stop him?"
"I wouldn't." Instead of Mallory, a new voice spoke. Lucy looked to the right of her to see Graham Montague, one of the Slytherin chasers. He had an amused grin on his face as he watched the spectacle before him. "I'm surprised he hasn't gone after Flint yet; he's in the front row..." He tore his gaze away from Anthony to look at Lucy. "Nice to see you've survived, Rochester. I didn't think you knew Ms. Alpin?"
Lucy looked to Mallory for an answer. The woman sighed, shaking her head. "My brother in law is his cousin, I guess. Fuckin' purebloods are all related, so it hardly counts."
"Aren't you pureblood?" Lucy asked.
"Yes, but I've got some muggle blood in my ancestry. Most of us that aren't in the 'Oh-So-Sacred-28' have it. Anyway, why the hell are you over here, Montague?"
"Better view," he shrugged. "And— I'd like to formally apologize, Rochester. I don't know if this freak after you is in our house or not... but if they are, I hope you know that not all of us snakes are like that."
"Don't worry, I know you're all teddy bears deep down," Lucy grinned.
Montague chuckled. "That's one way to put it. Anyway, if anyone's bothering you in my house, don't hesitate to tell me. I may not be like Rickett, but I can keep the snakes in line."
Lucy smiled at him. She appreciated that. Apart from the Slytherins in her year, she'd made an enemy out of nearly everyone else. It helped that Montague was very handsome. "Great, thanks."
"For the love of Merlin, Lucille, stop that boy!"
Mallory cut across their conversation, looking at Anthony with a mixture of horror and awe. At this point, he was up against the seventh years, and he showed no sign of stopping. Lucy even caught a few first year Slytherins ready to jump in. No matter how amusing it was, she couldn't in good conscience let her friend curse a bunch of eleven-year-olds.
"I'm on it. Mallory, hold my bag— I'm going in."
She handed the backpack off to Mallory, only for the woman to drop it immediately and fix her with an unamused look. Lucy expected nothing less from her. She smiled anyway, rolling up her sleeves in preparation.
She ran straight into the crowd.
One would think that a scrawny kid like Lucy wouldn't stand a chance against a horde of teenagers, but you see, Lucy was very determined. Using her shoulder, she rammed her way through. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Tom giving her a look of utmost displeasure. She winked at him and then continued on her way.
"IS THERE ANY OTHER CHALLENGERS?" Anthony called, resting his hands on his hips. A few seventh years limped away, nursing their various injuries.
Lucy cupped her hands over her mouth and said, "OVER HERE, COWARD!"
He whirled around, wand poised and ready to cast, and the crowd parted like the red sea. Lucy stood there, smiling innocently as she twirled her wand between her fingertips. (Tom taught her how. She wasn't that impressive.)
Anthony screamed. Loudly, and high pitched. In one fluid movement, he threw Daisy back her wand, braced himself, then jumped off the six-foot podium onto the grass below. Lucy didn't so much as bat an eye. With a serious expression, she held her wand up to him.
"Let's duel, then," she insisted. "I'll take you down, old man!"
"Lucy, don't do this to me!" Anthony pleaded. "You know I can't hurt one of my children! Ernie, back me up!"
Ernie, who still stood firm in his stance that Lucy was the Heir, fearfully shook his head.
"Hah! You're on your own, Rickett. It's just me and you—"
Anthony, however, sprinted forward and captured the girl in a tight hug, frantically checking over her appearance. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest as he even ventured to check the ends of her hair for signs of damage. "This isn't how a duel works, Anthony," she said, reluctantly stowing her wand in her pocket. Secretly, she was touched by his concern.
"Lucy, someone tried to—" Anthony began heatedly. He then realized they were still in a crowd of people, one of which could be her attacker. He shot a dark glare at everyone and then pulled her away from the ring. He strode past even Flitwick, who had been trying his best to give the boy a detention. The professor's small legs just could not keep up.
Mallory followed them out of the courtyard. She did indeed have Lucy's bag in one arm, much to her disdain, but she was even more disturbed by Anthony's presence.
"Now I see why you're such a psycho," Mallory concluded, looking from Anthony to Lucy. "Do you often surround yourself with murderers, kid?"
"Only if they're cute," Lucy assured her.
"First of all, thank you, I am very cute." Anthony smirked and ran a hand through his hair, only for his fingers to get stuck. He withdrew them with a wince. "With or without my hair. Second of all, it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I am Anthony Rickett, this child's mentor and illegal guardian." He bowed deeply. His tone had been so respectful and charming that it made even Lucy pause. Then again, the older boy did use his manners when it counted.
Mallory stared at him. "You're bloody weird. All you kids are weird. I'm leaving now, to hell with Severus's class." She shoved Lucy's bag back into her arms and then leveled her with a stern glare. "You have two months left. For the love of fucking Merlin, try not to die! I didn't think it would be that hard, but evidently, it is for you! You'd better come back this summer with some good news, so I can underpay you in peace. Great? Great. Bye."
Mallory walked away without another glance in her direction.
Anthony stared after her bemusedly. "I can't tell whether she likes you or not."
"That's the case with most Slytherins," Lucy said, nodding. "Anyway— why the heck were you fighting all the Slytherins?! That solves nothing!"
"Listen, there's a method to my madness!" he defended.
"Really? Because I'm not seeing one."
"Listen closely, my little badger, because I am about to bring you into the mind of a genius."
Anthony pulled out his wand and waved it. Instantly, a few green-shaded figures appeared in front of them. "These are the Slytherins. Really, I don't mind them at all— as a whole they're all right." He flicked his wand, and one of the figures turned red. "Whoever that is, is the attacker. Now, sniffing the bastard out will be damn near impossible unless they decide to take things further... So I am preemptively terrifying all of them while I still can. Hopefully, this figure will have realized that you have plenty of foreboding allies on your side." The red figure went from looking smug, to suddenly crouching, cowering in fear.
"What spell is that?"
"You're missing the point! Listen to my monologue!" She pouted, and he sighed, shaking his head. "Laraumores."
"Thanks! But, really Anthony, you can't attack innocent Slytherins just because one might be bad." She pointed her wand and cast the spell Laraumores, and she made the figures of all of her friends: Cedric, Daisy, Anthony, Ron, Harry, and Hermione... and Tom. Their individual features weren't discernable, but she had yellow, red, and green colors to show their houses. "If we're aiming to scare this git, we don't need brute force. Look at the numbers alone. Four out of us are older students, two of which are absolutely unhinged."
Anthony didn't look like he was convinced, but he didn't argue any further. She knew she didn't have a chance of changing his mind when he was set on protecting his friends... although she was not going to let him attack random Slytherins in her name.
Even if it was hilarious.
"I won't make such a spectacle... but I think a few less-than-ethical pranks will prove my point further." Anthony's gaze traveled toward the gaze hall. He let a devious grin pull at his lips. "I'm not usually so bold, but I can think of a few tricks that will put the Weasley twins to shame."
Lucy nodded along, but she was more focused on controlling the figures in front of her. She moved the green figure of Tom over to the real Tom. The former waved at him.
"I can't truly express how much I want to disarm you right now," Tom said in a calm voice. He refused to even glance at the green version of himself. Just to be a git, she made it more refined. "Stop that! What if Dumbledore sees? I'm sure he'd be very interested in how you know what I look like!"
"Who is that?" Anthony said, confirming Tom's fears.
"Montague," Lucy answered easily. He and Tom did look a bit alike with their dark hair and sharp features, although she had to admit that Tom was more handsome than the other. She dissolved all of the figures. "He said he'd keep an eye out for me, so I figured he deserved a ghost."
"Montague's a good lad. I spared him on purpose," Anthony grinned. "Sorry, cub, but I think you need to work on that spell a bit more— didn't really look like him."
"Of course," Lucy nodded. She would feel bad about lying, but Tom looked so taken aback by her deflection that she couldn't help but feel proud.
Tom finally allowed himself a small smile. Very small, but it was there. "I keep forgetting you're about as good at lying as I am."
Only Tom would think that was a redeeming quality. Lucy smiled back at him before returning her attention to Anthony. He was staring at where Tom was with a confused look on his face.
"You're spacey, cub," Anthony remarked. He turned to smile fondly at her. "Always looking interested in nothing... It's good to have you back, Lucy."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began walking with her through the corridors. "Let's ambush the Gryffindors after their next class. They've been worrying all week. I'm sure you scheming bunch of second years want to come up with a plan... and it may or may not involve murder. I don't know, that's for you to decide."
"They wouldn't go for that," she sighed. "I've suggested it so many times, they're just too brave for it. You know how Gryffindors are."
"One can only hope, my dear. One can only hope."
Ambushing the Gryffindors went about as well as she expected.
As soon as they left Defense Against the Dark Arts, she lunged at Harry and jumped on his back. She didn't think about the fact that Harry was as built as a noodle and the force of her attack sent them both crashing to the floor, groaning. He rolled over and glared at her. Their classmates passed them, snickering.
"Lucy, you're the worst," he huffed. He sat up, straightening his glasses. Then he realized who he was speaking to and he quickly helped her to her feet. "Lucy, you're the worst! You're out of the Hospital Wing!"
"That I am, Potter," she nodded, accepting his hand. She brushed the dirt off her skirt, scowling. "What'd you tackle me for? I have ears, you know."
"Oh, don't start!" Hermione begged as Harry opened his mouth to argue. She ran forward and brought her friend into a tight hug. She was mindful of Lucy's lingering soreness, but when she pulled back, she looked ready to collapse from nerves. "Harry told us what happened— Who would do such a thing?!"
That was what Lucy wanted to know as well. She was less affronted on her own behalf, and more because her friends were in a state of worry because of it, not to mention Harry had nearly been injured as well... They had enough to deal with, with all the monster attacks, but now they had some crazed stalker on top of that? The volatile part of Lucy's mind would give anything to get her hands on the culprit... Between herself and Tom, they would certainly regret ever messing with her and her friends.
The dark gleam in her eye must have showed, because Ron pointed a finger at her and exclaimed, "See, there it is! I told you she could be scary, mate."
By the time Harry went to look, Lucy was back to being amused. He rolled his eyes. "Sure, Ron."
"She can be! Hermione, tell him!"
"Is that what you're worried about right now, Ron? Honestly!" Hermione scoffed, linking her arm through Lucy's. "Let's go to the Gryffindor tower... I've had us looking up spells to slow falls, so even if the staircases do collapse again, I think we can manage it."
"I doubt they'll fall again, my dear Granger," Anthony piped up. He fell into step beside the girls while Ron and Harry trailed behind, bickering with each other. "A snake does not show the same scales twice. This person went out of their way to send a cryptic poem— I'm sure they'll keep the drama of it alive in their schemes."
"Seems stupid, if you ask me," Lucy scoffed. "If I wanted to kill someone, I'd have just done it by now. It's not that hard. Like, why do you have to send a song about it! Just curse me, drama queen! There's been a zillion chances!" She spread her arms out wide, as though opening herself up for an attack. While Tom was in the diary, she could feel his disapproval.
"Let's not critique your stalker," Anthony advised. "Save your murder plans for your own crimes."
Hermione frowned. "I can't believe how many times I've had to ask my friends not to murder people."
"Listen, at least we don't set people on fire, Hermione."
"That was one time, and it was to save Harry!"
"Two times, have you forgotten Lockhart?"
"Lucy, I'm almost positive that was you!"
"And all of Slytherin? HMMM?"
"It was fake! And that was to save you!"
Lucy shook her head in mock-shame, turning to look at Anthony. "I can't believe the people I surround myself with, can you, mum? They're all so evil."
"They really could use some Hufflepuff kindness in their hearts," Anthony said, disregarding the fact that the two Hufflepuffs in their presence were, in fact, the most evil out of all of them.
Hermione deigned this as too silly to argue with, and she marched ahead, muttering under her breath. Lucy grinned after her. They bickered, but she really did enjoy her time with Hermione. A year ago, she never would have dreamed she'd end up befriending her. Lucy grew to realize that Hermione's 'nagging' was her way of showing concern, and after becoming friends, she lessened up on it anyway.
"Two more months to survive," Lucy repeated to herself as they approached the staircases. She looked upward at Anthony, grinning. "D'you think I can manage it?"
Anthony sighed. "Good Merlin, I hope so."