Hey hey!
I know you all want to get to the story, so I won't talk here.
Onwards! Chapter 15.
***
Septima gasped as suddenly a hand closed around her wand hand, stopping the perpetual, looping movements she made reinforcing the sigils. Nikos had returned, but she resisted.
"No. No, look," she whispered, and kept signing as she heard a sigh behind her back and the Greek taking position next to her.
"The chart has changed," the voice was not excited enough- but it was somewhat alive. "Oh, Roc…! This must have been you; you did this to them."
Another sigh, and again his hands stopped her signing. The gold air-gliding letters, lines and numbers dropped softly like snowflakes back upon their places on the wide parchment, which had grown in size to accommodate them. As soon as they touched the parchment surface they turned dark blue and immobile.
Septima tore away from the sight and turned to look at Nikos, only now feeling the tiredness and wondering about the possible passage of time. But again she gasped, seeing the man up to his elbows in blood, his shirt front and pants- he didn't seem to favour robes- completely smeared with it, and his expression a mix of anger and helpless guilt.
"What- what happened?" she muttered. "I could understand how the equations changed and all the clusters and imprints, but I couldn't see what was taking place, not like you can."
"My boy's hurt… Septima, I was wrong. The whole damn thing was done wrong!" Nikos yelled and kicked the arithmantic table with such force that it flew on the other side of the considerable big room.
"Rasmus is hurt?" Professor Vector cried out. "Is- is he…?"
"He will be fine. I didn't leave until there was nothing left to do but wait… but he could have died. He could have died, and his blood loss so staggering he nearly did once more in the infirmary. If I didn't know my sigils, I – and Frideswide had some really powerful potions in her stash… but I failed."
Professor Vector helped Nikos into one of the two chairs, wondering if the man was right and he had made an error. Septima somehow couldn't bring herself to believe it.
"It can't have been wrong. Augury or not, it still is Arithmancy and I know a correct chart when I see it. The chart is right- more than right, Nikos! It's –"
"It's got wrong core imprints! How could I be so stupid and not include Rasmus' imprint? If I had, he wouldn't be sedated in the infirmary because I would have seen the goddamn danger he was in! I'm a fool," he sighed, passing his hand over his face, blood-dyed in his godson's blood as it was.
Then he straightened up a little and tried to smile for her.
"I really shouldn't be burdening you with my failures, especially since you upkept the Augury chart for so many hours, and so well! The equations continued developing, and now… well, as soon as I can trust my mind and my rage with it, we'll be able to know where to start looking for the identities of some, at least, of the darkies."
"The darkies?" Septima said, trying not to let herself think that she must have been standing drawing and redrawing sigils for at least four hours.
"Oh, sorry. It's what Aello and I used to call Dark Wizards when we were considerably more naïve about them. But the name stuck." Nikos got up and smiled at Septima.
"You look very tired, and I need to go to the Headmistress as soon as possible, and then I will just go stay with Rasmus until he wakes. Thank you, Septima. Really, thank you," he said earnestly, and though Professor Vector did want to go and rest, she felt reluctant to about turn and leave the man on his own. She had never seen wizards show their emotions so readily and openly, and didn't know if it was a sign of collapse or just Mediterranean temperament. It made Septima uneasy, and a little at a loss. But with a sigh, Nikos turned to retrieve the arithmantic table, and she knew she was dismissed, and to stay she'd have to find an excuse she was too tired to think up.
She walked out without saying another word. She knew Nikos would not hear it.
***
Professor Bai was sitting in McGonagall's office, waiting for her, but he was not hunched, or frightened, or in any way uncertain like one would expect of someone with so much evidence stacked against him. Instead he was seething in anger and glaring daggers at a certain frame. Snape's portrait burst into life as he snarled at Bai:
"You child murderer! I hope you get Kissed before you even get a date for the Wizengamot!" Severus yelled in such rage that it made Bai smile sinisterly.
"It hurts, doesn't it, Snape? At least your son is still alive. Mine is rotting in the ground!"
"You despicable rat," Severus spat, leaning against the canvas as if he was trapped in it, bearing his teeth. "I never killed your son. I wasn't there fast enough- the real Death Eaters had been quick to have their fun with a toddler."
"Shut up! Shut up or I'll slash your canvas," Bai growled, even more enraged that his threat sounded so ludicrous.
Snape's upper lip curled just like it did when he was alive.
"Yes, truth hurts, doesn't it? It hurts that you were the one late despite the warning I risked my cover to get you sorry lot that passes for aurors- it hurts that the only help she got was a quick spell to follow her son without torture. All because you were late!"
"Professor Bai! Step away from my wall!"
Headmistress McGonagall was just in time to stop Guiren Bai from literally attacking Severus Snape's portrait. He was shaking from head to toe and his teeth were clenched, still staring at Snape's portrait to the point that Minerva had to steer him to a chair and push him in.
"Professor Bai, Severus has good reason to have said those things to you," she began.
"You didn't even hear what he said!" the DADA professor managed to choke out, but Minerva cut him off.
"ANY words!" she snapped at him, making Severus glance at her oddly. Minerva tightened her jaw. She felt her cheeks too hot, and she also felt guilt that she hadn't picked Bai from the scruff for his charade in the Practical as soon as Potter had told her. As soon as Snape had told her. Bai was keeping his fists tight on his thighs and his head was bent, but not in shame- in anger. No, she had no sympathy for him. Not after what she had seen had to be done to sustain Rasmus to life, and Hodd! What had happened to that boy?
No, she didn't have any sympathy for Bai and his Antahiga curse.
"Explain yourself," she ordered him curtly. Bai's shoulders shook.
"There's nothing to explain. I didn't do anything to that boy, or the other one. You can cast Priori Incantatem on my wand, question me with Veritaserum- whatever it takes. But you are losing time. Shouldn't you be worried about those stolen bodies?"
"That is not your concern," Minerva said sternly, "until we precise that indeed you are not the one responsible for Mr. Snape's and Mr. Hodd's predicaments." She tapped her fingers to summon a house elf.
"Someone is waylaying you- someone who knows me well enough to imitate my curse," Bai was saying as he leaned back, his expression closed. "And you are letting them buy the time they need to get away with those bodies- or whatever they took from them."
Minerva didn't respond, and only Albus seemed at ease, popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth, from the painted silver bowl in his portrait.
***
Harry glanced at Hermione, and then at Ron.
"I still can't wrap my head around this. Bai is a lot of things, and there is no love lost between him and anyone called Snape, but to cast that curse at a student- any student? Maybe someone else did it. Maybe someone who survived it, or watched him cast it."
"Can you cast the Antahiga, Harry? You've seen him do it often, when he fought with us, haven't you?" Hermione asked pointedly as they rushed to where Dumbledore's and Snape's graves were located on Hogwarts grounds.
"No, I can't. It's some sort of complicated wand work, and I have not quite heard the chant either," Harry admitted. "Bloody hell. Maybe I should have reported him before he landed Rasmus in the infirmary."
Hermione put a hand on her friend's shoulder as they kept walking.
"It was really lucky you were going for quidditch practice when you were. You saw him in time to, well, buy him time until his uncle came."
Harry made a non-committal shrug.
"Wait a minute," Ron said then abruptly, though he had been unusually silent the whole time Harry mused and Hermione asked questions. "Did you say wandwork?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Why?"
"Well in the Practical, when he'd said that he'd cast the curse at Snape, and went through the moves, he wasn't holding his wand."
"He wasn't?" Harry's eyebrows arched as his eyes widened. "He can't really do much wandless magic except Accio."
"Here we are," Hermione said, and her voice caught. Before them the beautiful marble of Dumbledore's grave was smashed, and the opening yawned ominously empty, and the other one next to it, once in dark green marble, was in complete ruins, the soil mixed with debris, and maybe the tomb's owner's remains too. Defiled, was the only word that Hermione could find to describe the sight, and it filled her with so much rage that there was a multiple crackle all around, and all the dry leaves upon the ground burst into small flames. Ron yelped and Harry flinched as she just stared at the site.
And Filch jumped them from nowhere, all or a sudden.
"Git," he leered at them. "Or you can bet you'll get detention, and I dun' care if you're the saviors of the whole bloody world."
***
It was very dark when something reached him in the soft, cozy dark blanket that enshrouded him, keeping him warm and safe from pain. It trickled from the top, like oozing syrup, and somehow dissolved the blanket here and there like water trickling through a protective cocoon of warm mud.
The more it trickled, the more the darkness dissolved, leaving him naked and unprotected to harsh sounds, to pain, to heat that threatened to return and devour him. No, please! Don't pull me back. It's too much, don't let me wake, his mind begged, but the darkness of oblivion would not stop thinning out until he could actually hear talk, feel pain. There was pain, and someone was jostling him so hard. Wasn't it hard? Or was he simply so hurt that even the lightest of touches sent lancinating white pain into his brain?
-se, Roc. I kno- ….-ear me…
He winced, and tried to move, and realized he was being forced to drink something hot, sticky and extremely bitter. He tried to resist, but it was no use- the hands were keeping him locked in the position that his throat would swallow whether he wanted it or not.
His arms felt not made of flesh, but hot coals and livid fire coursed in his veins. His legs were throbbing with his pulse. His whole body shook, and he felt it was too cruel to make him wake.
Come on, Roc. I know you can. You're my brave lad, Roc. Wake up, the voice kept cajoling, and Rasmus wondered if he'd fallen off the huge fig tree again, back in Athens- the one that was close to the ravine, the one from which a fall meant several broken bones after carting down a ravine wall decked with thyme bushes and nettles. That was it, wasn't it? And Mum would threaten him to leave him to heal without magic, wouldn't she? Mum! I want my mother. I will fight for Mum.
Nikos' heart clenched upon hearing the boy's feverish whisper, calling for Aello when she could not be here.
"Wake up, Roc- godfather is here- uncle Nikos," he said, using the two appellations interchangeably as he spoke in rapid Greek and stroked Rasmus' hair just the way he knew he liked it, just the way Aello always did when he had been ill. Professor Frideswide bit her lip.
"Maybe it's too soon, Nikos," she said quietly, but she still kept helping the semi-conscious teen drink her potion. "Maybe he's not strong enough."
"No; now is the time, he is strong enough. He must wake, drink the Blood Replenisher, have healthy sleep, and heal fast," Nikos asserted, watching as Rasmus stirred more and more.
Professor Frideswide didn't object; she knew the Healer had a point. If they could give Rasmus the potions he had to take while conscious now, he would heal faster. If they waited for him to wake on his own, without her Nerve-Stimulating Potion, he would be too weak and need more time to convalesce. But wasn't it already frightfully quick? The Greek had cast some rune-like forms of spell he called sigils, and they seemed to jump-start the healing process, and protect from death in a way that left her breathless, and wanting to learn how it was done. But at what cost had this been done to the patient, Healer's energy aside? Waking early surely meant that more pain would be felt than the boy ever deserved. The sigil assisted Healing was in itself a trial- Nikos had sedated Rasmus for the whole time until now, to save the lad the pain and discomfort. When Rasmus rose from the stupor, nearly 8 hours later, the fever also rose. It did not allow for too many pain killers- even the muggle aspirin that Nikos had currently employed as a quick remedy, was going to be short lived.
Bandages covered the hands and forearms of the boy, as well as his legs from the knee down; his neck was also wrapped and only the capillary system bursts had been completely healed. There were still pink traces of lesions in parts where the veins were deeper in the flesh, like his cheeks, forehead and around his eyes; parts of the chest where the shirt had parted open under the scarf, and even along his torso there had been some sinister bruising- along with a lung collapse. It was truly a horrible sight, but Erna forced herself, like she used to do in the war, too, to think that this meant the patient was going to live. And it is nothing compared to the hack job he'd been when we laid him on this bed. Nikos' Healing is simply stunning.
The potion finally was swallowed to the last drop, and she stepped back, readying the potions the boy would need to take as soon as he reached full consciousness. It wouldn't be long now.
"That's my boy," she heard after a while- she understood the meaning just from the emotion in Nikos' voice, because he was still speaking in his language. She turned around sharply.
In his godfather's arms, Rasmus had opened his eyes just a small, tiny crack. Erna Frideswide smiled in relief. Though gleaming with fever, those eyes were focused, fully aware and there was the spunk she had appreciated in them since the first time she saw him.
"Welcome back," she whispered, but didn't shout.
***
And that's that! Kind of a slow-ish chapter, this one, but it's an 'aftermath' chapter. Tomorrow… 's gonna be different. ;)
Also, I forgot to say yesterday (I was in a hurry) that the thoughts/actions Rasmus makes/takes just before going unconscious in the courtyard, are also part of the Greek warrior culture. It's not a behavioral pattern unique to Greece, but it definitely is part of the Hellenic fighter's code of bravery, honour and valour- that you must mark the man who has managed to defeat you/ take your life in a fight/duel/war, or at least mark him. There are many folk takes all about that, and Greeks, when forced to fight/ take arms, are really serious about their battle honour, even in modern warfare, like the WW2 or even later, even if in peace times they may not show they have it in them as much- they do. You just need to get them angry enough and insulted enough. Another cultural tidbit for you! :D
Zoe Bright: That's great that you liked it so much! Hope this one serves, too ;) And yes, Bai does sound like Snape used to, at times, doesn't he?
Moira of the mountain: Glad you liked this. This may not be so exciting, but it is just as important. Anyone yet guessing what is MAYBE going on?
Sindie: I do try! Every day I fear I won't have the time, but maybe I'll manage the dailies to the end.
RebeccaRoy: And here it is!