When the weather is warm, it's easy to forget all about your troubles. There are many things to take the mind off them, like the sand, the sea, and the surf. But all it takes is one swift fall breeze to blow reality right back into your face. And the thing about a breeze is you have to bend with it before you break.

Hermione and Marcus are almost at their breaking point with all the wedding planning, The Alchemist, the missing head of Magnum Flint, a sketchy family history, quidditch practice, and NEWT reviews. They keep hoping that, like the wind, this too shall pass. However, it seems to keep going and going and going. One slight breeze does not make a storm. But sometimes, it's a precursor for a powerful gust.

It was a few weeks into October, and they were no closer to finding Magnum Flint or The Alchemist. In his spare time, Marcus had taken to helping Potter- for free and at his leisure. Lord Flint became responsible for combing over each Flint property, looking for signs of recent activity. Potter believes the properties are being frequented since they found the Blazing Brew and other missing dark objects on a Flint estate. Whether or not The Alchemist is using the homes remains to be seen. But it's highly suspect that they are, and it aligns with Hermione's thoughts on the matter. So, suffice it to say, Marcus is stressed.

The stress mounted after a quidditch game when his coach made him fly laps for missing multiple goals. "You're head isn't in the game, Flint. Get your mind right," Coach Johnson told him. It was the first game Marcus had failed to make any goals. The embarrassment and shame from it spread into the papers. Headlines read "Is Flint Floundering," "Has The Golden Arrow Turned To Rust," "The Flint-Stone," or "Did Flint Peak Too Soon." It was frustrating at best and humiliating at worst.

The wizard kept his emotions bottled up until, one day, they spewed. After practice, a slew of reporters assembled for a quote. "Mr. Flint! Mr. Flint! Over here," they shouted. That was the nicest of the things the vultures said. "Flint is it true Coach Johnson is thinking of benching you," "Are you worried about your stats," "How will this affect your contract negotiations," "We heard you were drunk," and so on it went. The drunk part, though, that's what did it.

Marcus had thought to ignore the group, but no one questioned his integrity, and gets away with it. He marched over to them, narrowed his eyes, and stated, "Now look here! It was one bloody game! One game! Yes, I missed goals that I should have otherwise scored. Yes, I wasn't playing my best. But hell no, I wasn't drunk!"

He stared them down and continued. "Call me a brute, a troll, a meanie, whatever, but don't you dare say I'm a drunk! Yes, the game took my stats down a few points, but I'm still the top chaser in the league. I fully expect myself to be in top form this next game. It's impossible to be bloody perfect all the time. Okay, so I had a bad game. It's not the end of the world! Expect my comeback to be imminent."

And with that, he walked away stewing. The reporters thought that was the kindest telling-off they'd ever had. For that reason, they respect the man even more, just like Mulvaney, where the press corp could draw multiple similarities. Many positive articles about the chaser were published, thereby quelling the fears of the Flint fanbase.

After Marcus left the stadium, he apparated to the French Alps castle. He does not know why his family owns a castle, but he does know it's ridiculously large, far too cold, and possibly haunted. However, his gut had a hunch telling him to go there, so the frustrated chaser listened. Although, he can see Hermione's face and hear her reprimanding voice in the back of his mind for going alone. Act first, ask forgiveness later. That's his current approach.

Once inside the drafty old building, a faint chill spread, making the young lord shiver as he turned to go upstairs. He did not get very far because two hidden house elves got his attention. They held knobby fingers up to their mouths for him to be quiet. The pair received a curious, questioning look as a response. That made them pull their ears, but they shook their heads and pointed toward a dark hallway. Motioning to follow quietly, Marcus trailed them, wondering at their suspicious nature.

As the trio walked down the long, narrow, creepy hallway, muffled voices could be heard. The young Lord Flint gripped his wand tightly, ready to fight if needed. Closer and closer they crept, and then the hall split- a hallway to the left and one to the right. A light on the left emitted a glow through the darkness of the area. Marcus and the elves followed it, taking them to a part of the castle that housed a brewing room. His heart raced, and his stomach knotted up in the worst kind of way. This encounter could go terribly wrong or work out for good. Regardless, Hermione will have a fit; he just knows it.

Having taken a deep breath and peering around the edge of the door, the brunette's mouth dropped open. Sitting on a table was the head of Magnum Flint. The head that's been missing is here! For once, his gut instinct had been correct. The more he looked into the room, he realized Magnum was talking to someone. That leaves the wizard with two choices.

One would be to back away as silently as a wrackspurt and call for reinforcements. Two would be to put on his courage and face the intruder. His head tells him to choose option one, but his adrenaline says otherwise.

Unfortunately, the adrenaline rushed, and so did he. Throwing caution to the wind, Marcus entered the room with his wand out, ready to fire. If time could stand still, it would have. Of all the people in all of the world, he did not expect "You! What the hell? Why are you here," he remarked.

He looked at the man in the room and began piecing things together, which led to a nasty conclusion. In shock and confusion, the young Lord Flint forgot his purpose. That was when he was hit with a stunner, and crumpled to the ground. The same wand was again pointed and ready to cast an Aveda, but Magnum Flint suggested, "Now, now. Don't be hasty, my man. The boy is the Flint heir and family, after all. Perhaps a small memory alteration would work."

With the cast of a single spell, the young lord woke up wondering what on earth he was doing at the castle. He looked around the empty room and couldn't help but feel very cold and peculiar. Marcus had no idea why he was there nor how he arrived at this location. Maybe he took too many hits at practice that afternoon. Coach had been running him pretty ragged. He was just about to leave when his eyes spotted something. Right there on the work table lay a plant. The usual response would have been not to touch it, but there's a gut feeling telling him to take it. So he did.

After using the floo to go home, Marcus took the plant to show Hermione. She examined it and could not identify the type but knew someone who would. A call would be made as soon as the witch finished reprimanding her love for "Not using your head! I don't understand why you think you have to do these things alone! One day it's going to get you in big trouble, Marcus!"

He promised not to do anything like that anymore. Then Hermione made a floo call to the greenest thumb in the wizarding world. Once Neville's head appeared, she showed him the plant and asked, "What is this, Neville? Do you know?"

The herbologist studied it for less than a minute and explained, "Oh, that's easy. It's a euphorbia milii, commonly called crown of thorns. Be careful, Hermione, because it may look harmless, but looks are deceiving. It's a vicious, evil little plant. If any sap gets on you, wash it off immediately. The liquid is reported as being corrosive to the skin and eyes. It can form skin blisters and make you have temporary blindness. Any part of the plant is highly toxic if ingested, so don't do that. And the thorns are incredibly sharp. If treated improperly, it could cause death."

Throwing the plant on the ground, she told her friend, "Thank you, Neville. You've been a big help." He nodded, and the floo went dark.

No sooner had the floo closed than it opened again, bringing her dear friend, Harry. The Auror greeted both her and Marcus. Then he invited them to "Have dinner with Ginny and me, Saturday night. We need mental stimulation beyond what Ron and Lavender bring to the table. A person can stomach hearing Won-Won only so much before it makes you want to hurl."

The three laughed, and Marcus accepted the invite. As he and Potter began to talk quidditch, the messy-haired Auror turned his head and noticed the plant on the floor. He sprung up from the couch and moved to have a better look. He pointed his finger at it and eagerly asked, "Where did you get this?"

Then Marcus explained where it came from, and Hermione finished by saying, "Neville told us it's called-"

But Harry interrupted by noting, "Crown of thorns. It's a crown of thorns."

His brows knitted together in thought while eyeing the plant again. Turning back to his friends, he shared, "I don't know what's going on with the Flint estates, but that plant has shown up again and again in case files. I've been studying past files from those pertaining to The Alchemist. One similarity I've noticed that's been overlooked is that plant. The crown of thorns is like some kind of calling card. Anywhere The Alchemist has been, a crown of thorns is left behind."

The Auror ran a hand through his brown hair, making it stick up more than usual. Glancing at Marcus, he wondered, "Did you see anything else that seemed suspicious?"

Flint could honestly say, "I didn't. I only saw the plant which I picked up and carried with me. Nothing else seemed out of place." He could say that because there was no way of knowing The Alchemist had altered his mind.

So Harry picked up the plant and immediately carried it back to the Auror station for testing. It left Marcus and Hermione to wonder about the situation, yet her Slytherin couldn't help but feel he ought to know something more. It's rather strange that feeling, and it forms a certain coldness. But for the life of him, he's not sure what it is or what to make of it.

The day of the next Arrows game arrived and with it brought a slew of mixed emotions. Upon waking, Marcus lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Hermione sleepily stated, "I can hear you thinking from over here." She rolled over to see her fiance' better and noticed his muscled arms crossed over his chest. In order to lighten his mood, she draped one of her arms over him and snuggled him to her side.

Marcus admitted, moving his dark eyes from the ceiling to his woman, "I keep thinking, what if I miss all my goals tonight? What if that game only shifted momentum into the negative for me? What if I've lost my touch on the pitch?"

Somehow the witch knew this was going to happen. Those wretched articles have a way of preying on the mind and causing doubt to enter. As she tenderly danced her fingers across his chest, Hermione responded, "What if you score all your goals and play the best game ever? What if you beat a record tonight and achieve some quidditch status that hasn't been reached in over a hundred years? What if-"

He cut her off with a kiss. Before it could get too heated, the chaser smiled and declared, "Alright, alright, you've convinced me. I'll try to leave the past in the past and focus on the here and now. I'm in need of a shower and a shave. Want to help me with that?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief, making her pulse race just thinking of helping him. Without warning, Marcus scooped her up and carted her off to the shower, where they washed their worries away. But like a shadow, the past sometimes follows and sneaks up in the worst ways possible.

That evening, when the game against the Tutshill Tornados commenced, The Golden Arrow was ready. He had everything he needed to be successful. There's his trusty broom, a new pair of sports gloves courtesy of Yearwood's Sporting Equipment, Apple-Ade (the Arrows secretly formulated hydration drink), the support of his teammates, and Hermione in the viewing box, along with his friends. Marcus was pumped up and ready to start.

The game began as usual, and it was clear the Arrows were there to clean house. Everyone who had wondered if Flint would flounder had their nerves eased when he scored goal after goal after goal on the other team. The chaser was back to his old self in a brutal fashion declaring the last game a faulty fluke. He got what he wanted. His stamina, pride, skill, and statistics were all built up accordingly. Marcus felt like he was flying on top of the world, which showed in his gameplay and face.

Now the thing about being on top of the world is that it gives you a long, long way to fall. And the problem with getting what we want is that someone always wants to take it away. This time the Arrows had the weather on their side. Going into the third quarter, a storm brewed. Sweeping winds came in forceful spurts, and then the torrential rain descended. A rain break ensued, where the quidditch refs were worried and wanted to call the game. But after deliberation and weather spells, they retracted their first stance.

After the weather delay, play resumed. The Arrows were still piercing the Tornados. Flint had the ball again and began to soar toward the other team's goal. As everyone knows, it's always the calmest before a storm. And just like that, something hit Marcus's broom mid-flight. It caused him and the broom to fall thousands of feet.

A range of emotions played out across people's faces in a matter of minutes. Elation, happiness, gasping breaths, shock, horror, and grief were all present, none more so than Hermione. The instant she saw him start to fall, the witch whipped out of her seat and flew down the viewing box stairs. The whole time she prayed her fiance' would be alright. Thinking she was some loon, security wizards tried to stop her from entering the field level, but she angrily yelled, "Get out of my way! I'm his fiance'."

They all moved past, seeing it was Hermione. However, arriving on the field brought the realization that things were not okay, not at all. Marcus lay unconscious in a heap of tangled limbs. The witch stifled her tears but seeing the man she loves twisted like that made it impossible.

The team healer levitated the fallen player to the locker room, where the chaser lay until Medi-Wizards came to take him to St. Mungos. Once at the hospital, he was given a lot of skele-gro potion. It worked to mend all his contorted bones, which were many. The wizard was also examined for internal injuries, and there was one the potion couldn't fix, a rib fracture. The broken rib came close to puncturing the lungs; if that had happened, death would have followed. Luckily, it didn't occur, and it was only a clean fracture of the rib. A different kind of skele-gro potion was also given to treat that injury- one created for bones around sensitive organs.

However, the healer team was most concerned with the young man's unconscious state. Since Hermione was listed as Marcus's contact on all of his records, they spoke to her. The lead healer, Dr. Tomlinson, explained the situation. "He's unconscious right now, but the big piece of this puzzle will be when he wakes up. His head took a very severe hit after the fall, causing the swelling around the brain. A concussion is present, which means Mr. Flint is a prime candidate for amnesia. But we won't know anything until your fiance' wakes up."

Hermione's eyes spilled over with the tears she had been holding, and she clutched Marcus's hand. Dr. Tomlinson noted her concern and said, "Now, I don't want you to worry too much. This is a common sports injury, especially after hard hits. Most quidditch players have at least two concussions a year. Marcus has been lucky to not have any until now. I would give him a brain renewal potion, but because of the swelling, I cannot. It would be too much strain on the brain at present. So we have to wait."

But the thing Hermine is focused on is the amnesia part. This concerned her the most. Turning to the doctor, the witch asked him, with a croaky voice, "If he has amnesia from the concussion, then—-" She had to take a breath. It's so hard to get these words out of her mouth. "Then will it be permanent?"

She needs to remember to ask her father about this too. Even though he's a dentist, he's had training in concussions and the brain. Although her own head is spinning, thoughts are in every direction, and it won't calm down.

Healer Tomlinson felt nothing but compassion for this worried young woman. "No, Miss Granger. Mild to moderate head injuries typically do not cause life-long lasting amnesia. Yes, your athlete took a terrible fall, but his head injury is moderate, at least from the 3-D holoexam. The holoscan of his brain showed swelling, but not extreme swelling. Just enough to have a bad grade-three concussion."

The tall man took a breath and continued his explanation. "When Mr. Flint wakes up, it's best to expect some kind of amnesia. Whether it's anterograde or retrograde, we have no way of knowing. The same for whether it will be mild or severe. We can pray for neither and hope for anterograde. At best, it's temporary and lasts a few hours. At worst, it could be permanent, but he'll remember many parts of his life. So it wouldn't be all bad."

The word permanent made Hermione gasp for air. A mild panic attack hit her as her world started to spin. The healer hit her with a breathing bubble, which allows the person to regain control of themself. At that moment, the door swung open, and Marcus's mother entered the room. The healer restated everything he detailed to her son's fiance'. The man added more information for both of them, "In terms of memory, you can expect confusion, trouble concentrating or thinking, and trouble remembering new information. There may also be moodiness, trouble sleeping, and headaches like a migraine, just to name a few."

The younger witch started to cry again while his mother sat there looking helpless. Dr. Tomlinson passed the box of tissues before he resumed. "Mr. Flint is young. That's a good thing. He has youth on his side, and I expect him to fully recover in two or three weeks. I'm leaning more toward two weeks, but we'll see. Right now, the main thing to focus on is his waking up. That will tell us everything we need to know moving forward regarding treatment."

The healer explained a few other details before departing to make his rounds. That left Hermione and Cora alone together. It's constantly constricting being in the same room as Cora Flint, but the brave Gryffindor wore her courage like a necklace. The two didn't speak for the longest time, Hermione held Marcus's hand, and Cora flipped through a magazine, appearing unruffled. But then the young woman dared to say, "I suppose you'll be happy if he wakes up and has permanent amnesia. If he doesn't remember me, he'll be free to marry one of the perfect pureblood princesses."

A tear ran down her cheek at the thought of that happening. Before Cora could respond, her would-be daughter-in-law found her voice and declared, "I'll never be good enough for your son, will I?"

It was so quiet in the room that they could only hear Marcus's breathing. Anyone looking inside would never know that question bothered Cora because the woman is always a pillar of strength. But a slight tremor of her hand signaled she was upset. With measured words, the older lady stated, "It's not that you aren't good enough, Hermione. You are more than good for him."

Trying to understand, the witch in question turned to Marcus's mother and eyed her. She needs to know, "Then what is it?"

"You represent change, and that's scary," the Flint matriarch replied. Her answer left Hermione speechless, despite hearing the same thing from Elanore, Audrina, and Hollie.

Cora went on to say, "Change is difficult at any age, but even more, once you're set in your ways. It's so very easy to get caught up in what people expect of you. Sometimes, you can lose yourself, and I suppose that's what happened to me. Over time I lost myself. I became someone my mother despised. I became like my husband and his family, an evil old shrew."

That was when investigative Auror Harry Potter arrived. He burst into the room as if he had run there, and the man might have, considering he had to lean over to catch his breath. Once Harry was able to speak, he said something alarming. "Mrs. Flint, Hermione, when I heard about Marcus, I couldn't leave it alone. I'm sorry he fell and got injured, but with all we know about what's happening at other Flint properties, I had to investigate."

Not knowing anything about her other homes, Dowager Lady Flint asked, "What's going on? What's happening on our estates?"

The Auror set out to explain the situation, and Cora Flint near fainted. She grabbed Hermione's hand and held it tightly. That affection, if it could be called such, surprised the younger witch. Her eyes had grown large with the contact, but then she collected herself enough to wonder, "What did you find out, Harry? I know you found something. Otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up here out of breath."

The man nodded and replied, "You're too smart for your own good, Hermione. But yes, I did find something, and I'm glad you're both sitting. The broom itself had been hit with a spell, silent but deadly. That's not all. Inside Flint's locker was a piece of a plant- a crown of thorns."

Green eyes met caramel, and Hermione let out a shuddering sob. The wind can be a scary thing. During a storm, or just in life in general, you never know when a gust will come along. A gust that is so powerful it uproots and changes everything.