The upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was much anticipated by the entire school. To everyone else, this was the most gruesome match between the two most violent rivals. For Rose, this was the first time she got to fly with one of her best friends. She had never competed against Scorpius, so she didn't know how he played. Albus was finding this more brutal and intense training that Slytherin Quidditch captain, Keith, was putting on them to be an inconvenience rather than necessary. Scorpius was taking it hard physically. He was lolling on the library tables with his arms by his side like a zombie, being so sore he couldn't move them.
"Scor?" Rose said tenderly.
"Uuugghh?" he moaned.
"You should go to bed. I'll finish up your History of Magic essay."
Scorpius was waving his quill lazily above his parchment without touching the paper. "Nah," he groaned, lifting his head so that his chin rested on his books to get a look at his progress. "I'm nearly finished, and the Slytherin stairs are so far away. I think I'll just kip under the table tonight."
"Oh, no you won't!" barked the ancient librarian, Madam Pence who looked as though she and Filtch both broke out of a museum. "I'm not levitating your corpse to bed, oh no sir! You'll use your legs! Be grateful while you still have some that work." She snorted and turned back to dusting.
Scorpius looked up in disbelief. "Does no one get a joke these days?"
A strapping young man turned the corner. He was the new librarian who did more of the heavy lifting, the sorting of the books, the cleaning up after sloppy students. "Sorry 'bout her," he said. "Doesn't like children. Never had some of her own."
Rose had tried to be as understanding to Scorpius as she could. Her friends had been too kind to her when she was incapable of movement last school year because of rough Quidditch practices. Albus didn't seem affected at all, which greatly bother Scorpius. He was bustling around books in a manner of a lunatic.
"How are you not writhing in pain?" Scor asked.
"I don't have time for pain," said Albus.
Max raised his eyebrow impressively, and Olivia slightly laughed as she paced the room with books in her arms; she never studied sitting down.
Albus dropped a thick and immensely dusty book over the rest of papers and quills the others had out. There was a small 'pop' that was Scorpius' ink bottle shattered atop his History of Magic essay. Rose considered saying that she warned him not to put his ink on top of his paper, but then she thought it wouldn't be such a good idea that his time and by the look on Scor' s face. Al grazed the page, shut the book, and replaced it on the shelf now with a large ink stain on the cover. He scribbled something down in his back-pocket book and grinned broadly.
"I've been researching this for weeks!" he exclaimed, placing his notebook on the table so the others could openly stare. Along the page was hand-drawn pictures of wand movements, feature changes, and Stella. "Weldon Eshable!" He pointed the title of his page.
"I recognize that name," Rose thought allowed.
"He's been mentioned briefly in a handful of our studies," Al said quickly. "I've been watching for him and have collected everything I know in here. The man is a bit of a nutter. He believed his pets, and every other animal for that matter were just humans trapped in beast bodies. But that's not important. What's important, is that he tried to change them back!"
Sugar leaned in closely to listen.
"I've found that he was the first ever to attempt reverse animagi, sort of. He did it all wrong. Weldon didn't quite have Animagus in mind; he was kind of just shooting counter spells at them. But he did get a bunny to have a human nose by means of a mending spell. That book just there!" He jabbed at the large dusty book. "That holds a copy of his journal entries regarding his experiments."
"How have we not come across it before?" asked Olivia.
"It was in the restricted section," Al replied.
"How did you get it?" Rose looked amazed.
"Garren fetched it for me."
"Who's Garren?"
Al pointed at the new librarian who put a finger to his lips mysteriously and shrunk behind a shelve.
"I'll be here all night," said Al, leaving his notebook to examine the larger one. "This is the break I've been looking for!"
"What happened to him?" Max asked.
"Hm?"
"To Weldon Eshable? Where is he now?"
"Oh, uh," Al looked hesitant and shifty. "Eh, you know, the usual, Azkaban," he coughed.
"The prison Azkaban?" Rose exclaimed. "Why?"
"Nothing big really," Al tottered. "He was just sent for animal cruelty, use of Animagus magic without a permit, and failed illegal experimentation." Al scratched his head and turned quickly as though the matter was over.
"You mean-!" Rose started, then lowered her voice with a wary glance around. "You're saying he was sent to prison for exactly what we're doing now?"
"Pff," Al turned, waving her question away as if it were an irksome fly. "No, no, no, we're not Weldon, we're going to do it right and not get caught." He turned quickly back toward the book and begun copying its contents down.
"Well," said Max briskly, standing to his feet. "That's enough terrifying prospects for one night. I'm going to bed. Rosie?" He reached out a hand.
Rose took it and left the library with her books in her arm and a worried look at Al who was crouched over a second table. His hair was messier than usual, his tie askew, and his eyes red and puffy from lack of sleep.
"Come on, Scor," said Olivia, helping him to his feet.
"I'm okay," he said.
Olivia laughed. "Don't worry, I'll take it slow, and we'll do something about your essay in the common room."
"Don't stay up too late, Al," Scorpius called backward before turning front and whispering. "He's mad, he is. Poor lad."
Albus Potter poured over the colossal book for over an hour and a half longer. His hand was sore from scribbling in his notepad, and his eyes were burning from sleep and the flickering light. Something touched him on the shoulder that made Al jump backward and point his quill as though it were a sword.
"Woah there, tiger," Garren laughed, pushing Al's hand back. "Lights out is in fifteen minutes. It's best you get to your common room. And I can't leave this book out forever. Madam Pence will notice."
Al looked regrettably back at the book. There was so much left that he needed.
"I'll fetch it again for you tomorrow," Garren said encouragingly, slapping Al on the back and walking him to the exit. "But as I recall, you are a Slytherin seeker? Yeah, best get your sleep, you have a match in a couple of days."
Al slouched through the corridor and down his first flight of stairs. He felt terrible, but he also felt defeated. He had done so little today - no major breakthroughs; Weldon Eshable won't help them too much. Not even his friends found anything useful. And how come they seemed so put out by this whole thing? Did they not realize that they're noble in a task bigger than themselves? They acted as though Stella was an inconvenience. Even Scorpius who had been with him from the beginning and had been thrilled when the extra Transfiguration studies started was now lollygagging in work and interest. He had been doing most of the work and still it wasn't enough. He was so far from reaching Sugamina.
Al ruffled his black hair and straightened his glasses as he reached the Slytherin interest.
"Malikmelum," he yawned.
The stone wall slid aside to allow him in. The common room was rather full of students, some of which who were in the loft playing card games and a few unfriendly faces were making it rain on the students below who were studying.
"Parkinson, you prat!" they called as they tried desperately to gather their now soaked school papers and shake their fists at Poppy and the Salazar's who were dangling over the balcony, laughing at the chaos they cause. Al rubbed his eyes and looked up.
"Parkinson, stop the rain or I'll have no choice but to curse you!" Al called, not at all feeling up to fighting or dueling.
Poppy spit at him but missed.
"Parkinson!" Olivia called, now joining Al. "I don't want to curse you right now. I'm tired. Please stop being a brat."
There was the sound of a thunder clap and the rain split into two clouds that hovered above only Albus and Olivia. Albus would have been rather impressed by the magic if he wasn't so pissed off. He and Olivia glanced at each other, rolled their eyes and retrieved their wands.
"Woah now!" The rain stopped as Poppy's wand fell to the floor with a slight rattle. Sixth year, Keith, had just come up behind Poppy and took her by the arms.
"Oi!" called Fraunk, turning with his wand and baring his crooked little teeth.
The entire Slytherin Quidditch team stood now in defense of their captain, readying for a fight. Fraunk sized them up and seeing as his chances of winning were seven to one, but lowered his wand with a Chihuahua type growl.
"Get off me!" Poppy yanked her arms away and thundered down from the loft.
Keith leaned over the balcony rail. "Really?" he said allowed, with the attention of the whole of his house. "she is a twelve-year-old girl, and no one stands up to her except a couple of second years? I'm rather embarrassed by you all right now." He finished that sentence as though he were about to dive into an exquisite inspirational speech, but he simply shook his head and walked away.
Murmuring began again as the Slytherins gathered up their drenched items and made for their dorms. Slytherins are usually night owls, but no one felt too keen on sitting on the soaked sofas. Nobody except first year, Ili McDodge, who was rolling around on the bear skin rug laughing, "It feels so weird!"
"I'm going to shower now, I suppose," said Olivia, ringing out her long straight hair. "Please get to bed, Al. You look awful."
But Albus didn't get to bed. He paced the room until Ili McDodge had all the fun he could, and left the common room. Al eyed the mantel serpent. He could sneak out to visit Stella, and no one would know. But he's never gone without Scorpius before. Even still, he had to see her.
Albus made sure that he was alone before pulling a chair to the open mouth of the snake and reaching far into its throat to pull at a knot in a crack at the back of its tongue. There was a hissing like steam from a train as the mouth opened further and the tongue laid flat to reveal a whole big enough for a small person to enter. Al took the serpent by the pointed fangs and heaved himself into the mouth, for the first time showing how badly Quidditch practice had gotten to him though he tried to hide it. He slid on his belly the rest of the way down until he met an incline in the tunnel so small that he had to crawl.
Albus ignored how cold the stone walls and floor were as he had to travel on his knees for a near mile and a half. The trip was long and wearisome; it always seemed a lot shorter when he had Scor to talk to. Al finally pushed up on a wooden door above his head. A crash came that was the broomsticks falling over. Albus rolled his eyes and climbed from the trap door. Just like Gryffindors to leave the brooms out of their place. He quickly fitted them into their proper positions before closing the trapped door and leaving the broom shed with his head low.
The wind blew cold against his face and Al dreaded the upcoming Quidditch match as he knew the speed to take would freeze his body and mind. He also remembered that he had forgotten his coat. Al pulled his arms from his cloak sleeves and used it as a blanket that hung from his shoulders. He lit his wand tip and used it to navigate over the muddy slopes to the lake's edge.
"OI!"
Albus dropped to his stomach across the slushy ground without thinking. Hagrid's cabin wasn't far away, and it was clear by the deep shout that the giant still stirred. More sounds of scurrying, glass breaking, and shouting came from the cabin.
"Hey! Get off that! Down! I said Down!"
Al, not wanting to be seen, snuffed out his light and army crawled until the hut was out of sight. He stood and turned his nose up to the large stain from the ground now on his not so white shirt. An unforgiving wind ruffled his wet clothes to send a chill up Al's spine. He trotted over stumps and skipped down the stone pathway until he reached a point he had to go off the path. A near half mile he walked as he had hundreds of times before. Down a stone bank, almost like a rock climb, he had to hoist himself down close to seven feet before he was able to slide through the mud and stop before tall lake weeds. These were just a distance from where they usually met Stella, but that entrance was within Hagrid's vision. It didn't matter where he chose now; she wasn't going to be there. She was off the clock.
Al took a deep breath and sat at the lake's edge, caring not about the mud or his pants cleanliness. He pulled off his shoes and socks to dip his toes into the freezing water, though the edge of the lake only down the bank was thawing. The water was freezing and caused his entire body to tense in initial shock. He took a deep breath and pulled from his pocket, a small tin can. Within was a pathetic half of a gillyweed submersed in a quarter inch of poppulaunt fat to keep it from drying out.
He lifted the weed onto his two fingers. Should he save it longer? He stared at the icy surface of the lake, and the black waved stabbing needles at his toes. What was the reason to go down there and speak to Stella except for the sake of speaking to her? It was taking him a lot longer to make up his mind than he wanted it to. Albus stood quickly and practically ran into the freezing water before his brain could notice the temperature and force him to go back. He flicked on his wand, took a deep breath of air that stung his lungs, and he dove. His body felt hot the water was so cold. A tingling sensation and stinging were overwhelming including the feeling of thousands of needles pricking his body until he went numb and was losing control of his motions. Every stroke deeper and further was agonizing and weak. He swam until he could no longer hold his breath, and forced the gillyweed down his throat. It took fifteen seconds before anything happened. Fifteen seconds that he was thrashing around, unable to breathe, but too far to go back. A familiar pain struck his neck along with tickling between his fingers and toes, while feeling came back to his skin and the water became comfortable.
Al took a deep gulp of oxygen that went straight to his head. He wasted no time admiring the underwater kelp or clams or strangely blue lobster, having been used to these elements through his window. He took a burst of speed, knowing that half a stem of gillyweed wasn't enough to get him from the surface to the mausoleum. He wasted no time. Albus truly hoped that because he started closer up the bank and had swum around fifty feet without gillyweed, that he would make it.
It didn't take him long to find the sand bank that announced the entrance to the tunnel under a large stretch of stone over the lake floor. He had been traveling to this cave every night in his dreams since he first visited. The clam lips scratch at his arms and face as he neared his destination. The stone walls began to close; it was here that a horrifying stabbing began. A stabbing at his neck and a tickling between his toes and fingers. Al pushed as vigorously as he could through the passage. He knew freedom was ten feet out and eight feet up. If he could only make it. The clams sliced still deeper as he thrashed about. His fear and claustrophobia were causing him to hyperventilate and release great breaths of greatly needed oxygen.
Al raised a hand to his neck; nothing was there. He was out of time and out of gills. He had no more air left to hold between his cheeks, and he felt his head become light. His temples were throbbing, and his chest was becoming tight. Maybe. He thought. Maybe just further.
As though he couldn't be more terrified, he found that he could no longer move forward. He was stuck though the walls were separating. With a couple frantic jerks, he realized that he had forgotten to leave his tie which was now snagged on Merlin knows what. It became too late. He pulled frantically against the silk which was tightening around his throat. He pulled… and pulled…. And pulled until a muffled ripping sounded and he was thrown backward due to the force he was giving against. Al felt the walls around him give way, and he saw a faint orange flickering rippling above as he sank. He had no strength or oxygen to kick upward. But he had to. He couldn't die. Al tried as hard as he could, but no matter how severely he told his legs to kick or his arms to paddle, they simply lay limp by his side as the orange flickering grew smaller.
He hit something firm and blinked find that he was amongst bones of not only squid but merpeople. Though he laid on a ledge, inside an underwater cave, amongst bones in a mausoleum, he wasn't too afraid. He truly felt that he was okay. Was this him complying to death? Or did he know he wasn't going to die?
Albus sighed and closed his eyes.
Al gasped heavily and opened his eyes. As though he were shocked awake, he lay face down on something soft. Albus slowly sat up. But, this didn't make any sense. He was just in the water, just next to skeletons, now he was – Al looked around again – he didn't know. What seemed like cloud lay under him though he couldn't physically feel anything under his feet. White remained all around him. He was… in the sky? On a very cloudy day without rain? No. He still had the sensation that he was in the water. Moving his head to looked to the right, he found that his hair swayed above him as though he really were still in water. But he could breathe. How peculiar.
Albus was beginning to feel frantic. He didn't know where he was, when he was, or how to get back. But did he want to get back? He would wake on the edge of a cliff underwater.
Al took his billowing black hair in his fists. Something caught the corner of his eyes as did his ears. A faint whispering was coming from a small clan of people a great distance away. Al turned his head. Were they perhaps lost like him?
"Hello?" he called. The whispering stopped.
Al squinted to see their faces, but he didn't have his glasses; he could see no more than shapely blobs. He could tell that the group were people, not just people, wizards. Most of them wore robes. Two people stood in the front. A woman with shoulder-length red hair and a man, tall with jet black hair that didn't look tidy. Around them, was a man with long black hair and a red trench coat. Then a man in a sweater with his arm around a woman with pink hair. Then there was another tall red head, a slumped man, a very tall man with long white hair and beard, and a white owl that landed neatly on the slumped man's staff he was holding.
How curious. They were staring at him. Albus felt warm looking at them all but truly wished that they would help him rather than watching. He felt strongly toward the two in the front. The messy black-haired man and the pretty red-head. Perhaps…
"Mom? Dad!" Albus called, finally making his way toward them. He faltered a moment as he felt he was moving, not physically, but through the watery sensation around him. He continued forward. "Mom! Dad!" he called again. But the further he walked, the further they seemed to become. Though they weren't getting any closer, many more figures appeared from the mist. More black haired people, an elf, elders, teenagers, people of every sort. Filled with a sudden desire to join them though he wasn't even sure he knew the people despite calling two of them his parents; that part felt right. Al broke into a sprint.
"Stop!" called one of the distant voices. Al obeyed. "Don't come any closer, sweetheart!" It was the red-headed woman speaking. That wasn't his mother's voice.
"But I want to meet you!" he called.
"You mustn't," she called back.
"Why not? Who are you?" he was becoming angry as he felt now that he was laying down on something hard, though only air remained behind him.
"You know us," she replied. She didn't have to yell for her voice to travel. It was sweet and comforting. "It is not your time, brave Albus."
"What do you mean it's not my-" he gasped suddenly as the air knocked out of him though he was not forced back. A terrible pain hit his chest as though he had just been punched. "What's happening?" he called, as he was hit again.
"You're not ready," said the man who did not sound like Harry but who had the same fluctuation. Though Al didn't notice; he was examining his chest as a reddish-purple welt was rising from within. "What do I do!" he shouted in fear.
"Close your eyes, Albus," called the woman. "Relax."
The option sounded absurd; he was being pounded in some life. Though, he felt compelled to listen. Al blinked a couple times before gripping his chest in pain as another pound hammered and he closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he felt drowsy. Albus fell backward slowly with the sensation of rising.
An owl screeched and its claws wrapped around Al's arm. He opened his eyes slightly as he fell/rose gradually. "Hedwig?" he whispered, then he blacked out.
Albus sprang up from the ground as water leaped from his mouth. He rolled over onto his side to spit great springs of green lake water from his lungs and onto the mysterious rock he was sitting on. He looked up. Stella was perched on the rock with him, her small fist poised in the air. He suddenly felt a great pain in his chest and ripped open his shirt to find a red welt with purple specks over his heart. He looked dumbstruck at Stella.
"Albus Potter, you fool! What were you thinking?" she gurgled with tears in her huge eyes.
"What happened?" he gasped.
Stella's anger melted away as she looked sadly at him. "Your heart stopped jumping," she said.
"I died?" he asked awestruck.
"What were you doing here?" she hurried. "I wouldn't have even seen you down there if you weren't holding your wand light!"
"I wanted to see you," he said, his experience in the clouds slipping from his memory as though it were a dream.
"I, am not worth death," she said sniffy, replacing Al's square glasses back onto his face.
"I'm sorry, Stella," Al bowed his head, dismayed that he disappointed her.
Stella sighed. "You scare me, Albus Potter. Do not try to visit me. I come to you."
Albus forgot why he had come down in the first place.
"Albus Potter," Stella started. "I thought it was death's grip, but you look terrible, truly." She placed her cold, wet hands beside his face to examine it thoroughly. "Have you been ill?"
"No!" Al said, suddenly excited. "I've been up for days studying for you! I found him! Weldon Eshable! And I know what wand core we need for it to be performed; unfortunately, none of us have it. I probably just look bad because of Quidditch. It's been brutal with all else that's going on. I'm probably going to quit. But I think we're really gaining some headway! Everyone else is working hard too. We stay up all hours of the night!"
Al's explanation didn't seem to please Stella as he thought it would. She remained staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, though she had none.
"You have suffered so badly for me?" she asked slowly.
"No, no!" Al called quickly. "I'm not suffering! I'm really enjoying myself!"
Stella smiled slightly. "You're horrible liar, Albus Potter." She looked suddenly grim. "But I'm not worth all of your struggles."
Al took her hand quickly. "You're worth every second I spend in the library and more." He said earnestly. "You don't deserve is to be hurt by others for being spectacular, and you don't deserve sleeping in a tomb."
Stella pulled her hand from his. "I am okay in here," she said. "I am not being hurt when I am in here. I have plenty of clams and wet books that you have brought me. I study my English and vocabulary in here, and I can sing all I want. I am okay. Who's not okay, is you, Albus Potter. What hurts is watching you throw away your life for me. You are losing your friends, and your grades, and your Quidditch, and that hurts."
Al stared, perplexed. "But… don't you want to be human? Don't you want to leave here?"
"In due time," she replied. "I want you to forget about me."
"What! No way!" he called, standing to his feet to cross his arms and turn his back on her.
"Not forever," she said. "I want you to have the fun that a twelve-year-old boy needs. Forget about me for only a little while."
Al sighed and turned toward her. "I can't, Stella," he said, croaky.
Stella smiled and shook her head so that her light green hair fell back into her face.
"I can't relax or have fun if I know you're here!" he called, gesturing angrily toward the damp walls and the overall dreary interior.
"And I feel the same," she cried suddenly, which made Al jump as her voice echoed off the stone walls. "How do you think I feel knowing that my best friend is throwing his life away? How does poor Scorp feel? Your Flower? Mass? I cannot rest knowing that you're unhappy. I want you to play Quidditch and like it. I want you to do potions and relax your tense muscles. I want you to smile more and comb your hair down; you've been grabbing it more. I want you to ease up on your friends. I want you to write home often, and tease your brother more. I want you to eat your fair portion of sweets and not harbor your share for me. I want you to forget about me for a little white. Do this for me, Albus Potter."
Al glared at the crustacean scurrying across his cold feet. "A day," he mumbled consent.
"Three," Stella demanded.
"Three days?" Al spat. Stella widened her eyes threateningly. "Fine."
"Seven," she said, crossing her arms.
"What?"
"Seven days."
"But we agreed on three!"
"Seven! The seven!" she said sternly. "Or the deals off."
"There was no deal!"
"A week!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"I'm not!"
"I said! Seven!"
"Three!"
"Seven!"
"Four days!"
"Seven!"
"Five!"
"Seven!"
"I'm not going any higher than five!"
"Six and a half!"
"Okay."
"Plus, twelve hours!"
"Fine!"
"Which makes seven!"
Al glared at Stella's triumphant grin, then began to laugh himself.
"You're getting better," he said. "It's annoying."
"You must get home," she smiled, tugging on Al's pant leg indicating that he should get in the water.
Albus scooted into the freezing depths and shuttered. He now realized, he had no way of getting back.
"Stella!" he said suddenly. "I don't have any more gillyweed!"
"I will give you my air, but you must not waste any, or there will not be enough."
"Your air?" Albus asked curiously.
"As I did last time," she said, drawing closer.
Al backed away slightly as she drew straight against him. The water no longer felt cold but was rather hot as were Al's ears.
"Uh, Stella? What are you-"
Stella leaned forward abruptly causing her lip to graze his before he jerked away.
"What are you doing?" he asked, now defiantly sure the water was getting very warm.
"I am not kissing," she laughed. "You humans. I am giving you my air so you can get home. Don't squirm and don't open your mouth when I finish."
She leaned close again. As she did last time? Al thought. Surely, he would have remembered her doing this. Her lips, which were surprisingly warm, pressed against his and he felt for a moment as though he were becoming lightheaded again. He closed his eyes because she was. Suddenly, air was being passed to him. He had an excess of oxygen in his mouth. For a long time, she remained still with her mouth on his, until she finally pulled away. Al didn't realize his eyes were still closed before he shot them open. Maybe his face was as red as it felt because Stella smiled and rolled her eyes before taking his hand and zooming from the cave.
She was acting as an engine and flew through the water quicker than Olivia with flippers. She knew where she was going. The air in Al's mouth felt like his own, as though he were simply holding his breath though he was able to keep the air in his mouth for much longer than he could ever do alone. Stella stopped suddenly which yanked on Al's arm. She was looking to the surface. Al did the same. A faint blue light shone through the ice. Maybe it was the moon, maybe not. She smiled, and pushed Al upward, waving sweetly at him as he kicked the rest of the way to the surface. Just before his head emerged, he glanced back as her silver tail whipped out of sight.
Al emerged from the water and took a breath, finding his footing against the sand and silted stone. He was staring down as a splashing noise sounded close. Al looked up as a strong force hit him in the chest, and he was thrown backward into the water.
Al struggled and slipped back to his feet before glaring up, flabbergasted at a ferocious, looking Scorpius who was waste deep in the ice water and didn't seem fazed by the cold nor by his Quidditch soreness.
"YOU IDIOT!" he bellowed, pushing Al back into the water before taking him by the sleeves to hoist him out again. "WHY WOULD YOU DISAPPEAR INTO THE LAKE WITHOUT TELLING ME, YOU BASTARD!" He let go causing Al to fall back again.
Albus, pissed off and perplexed at the same time, stood to his feet and slapped Scorpius' arms away that may have been helping him up or trying to push him down.
"ENOUGH!" Al called, spitting water.
"YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME! I know half a gillyweed won't last! You could have died, and I would have never known it!"
"Get off me!" Al called, stomping from the lake.
"Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"
"I- I don't know," Al mumbled, ringing out his shirt.
"You don't know!" Scor snapped. "I was one floor below! You couldn't have popped by to mention that you were leaving?
'Hey Scor, I'm going to the lake with half a gillyweed.'"
He mocked Al's voice.
"'I don't think that's a good idea, Al. You'll die on the way. How 'bout we nip to Professor Killpii's cupboard and nick some tomorrow?'
'Hey, good idea friend who I trust. That'll keep me from dying.'"
"Well, I'm not dead!" Al spit then was shocked to find that he had been pulled into an intense hug.
Scorpius held him close and muttered.
"Thank Merlin, you stupid, stupid person."
Albus suddenly felt less angry toward his friend but touched that he had worried Scorpius so much.
Scor took him by the arm to keep him from slipping anymore as they made their way toward the bank.
Another wand tip illuminated getting closer from a distance. Olivia was striding over quickly, looking liable to explode. She marched straight up to the two and before either of them could say anything, she hit Al in the chest with less force than Scorpius had but which surprisingly hurt much more, like being jabbed hard with the butt of a walking stick.
Albus fell into the ice lake again, and Scor pulled him back up.
"Olivia," Scorpius tried.
"What the hell were you thinking?" she called. "The gillyweed would never last! How could you be so stupid?" she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.
Al was beyond words. What was with people? Olivia pulled away and hit him once more for good measure.
"How did you guys know-" he started.
"Olivia saw you leaving," Scor replied, handing Al his cloak that he had left in the slush. "She had to stay behind to obliviate a few people who had seen me climb through the serpent. We went through hell trying to get here. I had to stun another of Filtch's cats."
"What in the world were you thinking?" Olivia asked, with her arms crossed in front of her.
"I'm going to take it slow on Sugamina," he replied slowly. The others stared at him. "Just for a week. A little breathing room I think would be good for us."
Scorpius was in the shower as Al tucked under his silk bedspread, now clean and freshly shampooed. He thought about all that happened and a faint voice rose from his memory, "It's not your time, brave Albus." He had no idea where that voice came from. As he finally dozed, exhausted and sore, he touched a hand to his mouth gently and smiled.