Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K Rowling's world!

Chapter Three

Katie Bell placed a hand on her aching back and made to stand up.

"Get on with it! You're here for detention, not a party!" Filch snarled. Mrs Norris twined her wiry body around his skinny legs and shot a triumphant look at the Gryffindor. The tiny young woman glared at the cat, and then turned her gaze to the filthy caretaker.

"I've been at this for more than three hours," she said, an edge to her voice. "There's only a few left! Why can't I finish it off tomorrow?" Katie's silky blond hair hung in slightly damp strands around her face, and with a movement dulled by a long time on her knees, was pulled back to rest behind her ears. The girl darted a resentful glance at the long line of trophies which she hadn't finished, hating their murky shade compared to the dull bloom of the ones she had already polished.

"Because tomorrow you'll be tending to the greenhouses. The windows are starting to get covered up by the creeping secantus, and Professor Sprout wants a volunteer to clear it." His gaze turned malicious. "Which is you, of course."

"Let me guess," Katie responded dully. "It's an extremely rare form of the vine which can't be cleared by magic." Filch's wicked grin was positively gleeful as he nodded, his greasy head bobbing up and down.

She could understand why Filch resented magic so much. It would have been so much easier for him to clean and take care of the school had he not been a Squib – a juicy morsel of information that she and the twins had discovered at the end of her first year. The memory of it still made her flinch a little, and her back ached in sympathy with the feeling.

It took her another hour and a half to finish scouring the taunting metal awards. It seemed that they flaunted the name Oliver Wood on golden plaques far more than was necessary for Quidditch records. Katie gritted her teeth whenever the irritating reminder of who caused her these detentions was scrubbed into view by her cloth and Scrubbs' Squeaky Squib Cleaner spray. Let all your problems just melt away, the cheerful, gaudy label announced. Katie was hard put to suppress the growing urge inside her to melt her Quidditch captain. Hah! Tell that to Scrubbs' Squeaky Squib Cleaner Company!

When the young Gryffindor finally staggered from the trophy room, it was to Filch's spiteful reminder to arrive at the same time tomorrow in front of the greenhouses. "Don't be late!" he snorted, but Katie barely registered it. Her head was pounding again. Why, oh why, hadn't she stayed for that single weekend? She couldn't go back to Madam Pomfrey now. The mediwitch had been diagnosed with black measles only a week prior, and her replacement for the time being was a grouchy younger woman whose stares could freeze.

I'll take back every complaint I ever made about Madam Pomfrey's medicine, Katie thought furiously, if she'll just come back before my head explodes! She had tried the headache potion, but to no avail. Her lessons were becoming too difficult to concentrate in because of the constant buzzing in her head – and when that started to escalate, all she wanted to do was curl up and cry.

So why don't you just swallow your pride and go and see Madam Goober? Angelina had asked, a puzzled expression in her eyes. The Chaser had been flummoxed by Katie's refusal to go to the hospital wing when they found her curled up in the girls' bathroom, wide-eyed. Alicia had given her a pointed look.

Can't you possibly imagine? she had asked terribly sweetly. It might have something to do with the fact that our dear Quidditch captain is th-

Leesh! Katie's voice had been shrill, and the glare she sent her was enough to encourage her silence. Can we not talk about this anymore? Please?

But Ange wasn't here. She's got to know, doofus! We're your best mates, - and at the look Katie had shot at her, amended – best girl mates, anyway. She has a right to know. Angelina, whose face had been contorted in confusion as she tried to interpret their cryptic comments, suddenly burst out,

What in Merlin's name are you on about?

Katie had sighed - Thanks, Alicia – and then had found herself turning to Angelina, biting her lip. Well, it sort of just… happened, I guess.

Katie.

Alright. Alright, I'll tell her.

One Week Prior

Katie stares mutinously at the clock. The saying about time never moving when you watch a clock hand seems to be true, because this dratted thing has been absolutely crawling so far. She's hanging out of the window; trying to get some fresh air because the day is so stifling, and she's also waiting for her eldest brother's familiar to arrive.

There's a sudden flurry of wings as a dead weight drops like a stone from the sky, its wings gracefully streaming behind it. Katie has had to lock her own familiar in a cage, which is a rare happening, simply for the reason that the two falcons do not get along. Kel, her brother's peregrine falcon, lands on the windowsill without so much as losing a feather, and glares haughtily at the young Gryffindor, who has backed up a little.

"C'mon, Kel," she coaxes, her hands stretched hesitantly out with palms up. Fred says that's the best way to calm a vicious animal, by showing you're not afraid. But frankly, Katie is forced to admit that it's a load of rubbish, because the stupid creature tries to take a chunk out of her fingers anyway, and the manner in which she does this is anything but loving.

Katie snaps. Whipping out her wand, she freezes the bird, capturing her ruffled feathers from flight in a silent tableau. It's the work of a moment to relieve the parchment from its position on the slender leg, and unfold it. Leanne looks up from her side of the dormitory.

"Is it from Sam?" she asks interestedly. Katie shakes her head.

"Nope, it's my eldest brother instead."

"Oh. Is that Landon or Benjamin?"

"'S Ben. Landon's the baby."

"Not a baby anymore, hun. He's gonna be coming to Hogwarts in a year or so, isn't he?"

Katie glances up from her letter, aghast. "Blimey, so he is. Silly kid. Why can't they stay small?" Leanne shrugs, and her friend looks down once more at the untidy scrawl, trying to untangle her brother's practically unreadable cursive. She purses her lips.

"I know what you're going to say, Kates, but don't. Yours is as messy as his is." Leanne's eyes are hooded with amusement. Katie sniffs, and ignores her. Her attention is now fully focussed on the letter, and she's suddenly very still.

… Yeah, I know. Beth and I were in the district, so we took Mum up for the check-up. Bad news, impbrain, but the results aren't exactly positive. Positive, geddit? The mediwizards at Mungo's said she hasn't got blackfever or anything like that, so that's good…

…I just hope you haven't immobilised Kel again. It's no wonder you guys don't get on, seeing as you freeze her every time I give you a letter. Anyway, what's all this I hear from Beth's little sister about you in deep trouble? You've got some explaining to do, little sister…

Katie springs up from her perch on the windowsill and scrabbles on her desk for a piece of parchment and a quill. Ink spatters everywhere as she digs it into the yellowy surface, the letters blurring and running together in her haste. But Ben will be able to read it. They've always been able to read each other's writing… eventually.

Ben,

- you better tell me what the mediwizards did say about Mum. I'm not a kid anymore; I'm a big girl now. And no jokes about the height please – they're getting old. I can tell when you're not telling me everything. Don't think that just because Dad isn't here that you can decide what to tell me and what not to, or I swear that it'll be up to Sam and Landon to continue the family name. Name, not line, Ben. And I'm sorry if that upsets Beth.

I'm not in deep trouble, exactly. Just played a trick on my Quidditch captain about a week ago (you remember Wood, right? Quidditch-obssessed, over-reactive, and an absolute prat) and now someone pulled another prank on him except it wasn't funny. I didn't even laugh, I just sorta smiled 'cause it was absolutely hilarious to think of him begging Madam Goober (she's the temp) for treatment – but only for a second. And then he thought that it was me who put the stinging hex on his broom combined with a sort of dye that turned his hands green again (you know, this person really knows their stuff, 'cause you couldn't tell there was a permanent dye on it at all. Invisible ink, do you reckon?) and McGonagall saw and I've been given detentions for the next three weeks. I didn't even do it!

Anyway, I want to find who set me up. And before you ask, no, it wasn't the twins. They wouldn't do something like that. We don't do harmful pranks. Strictly gags, that's all (unless it's someone who really deserves it, Ben, and I mean really deserves it).

Get back to me quickly, yeah?

Katie

Her hand's aching, and her uniform's ruined with ink, but Katie wastes no time in going to her brother's still immobilised familiar and strapping the letter hurriedly to her leg. The moment Kel's freed from the spell she darts forward and chomps down hard on Katie's hand before ruffling her feathers indignantly and leaving through the window.

And that's why you won't go to the Hospital Wing? Angelina had asked, clearly unimpressed. Because Oliver's there?

He humiliated me, Katie had muttered. She had felt her jaw clench.

And now, here she was, staring at the door to the hospital wing in uncertainty and not a little anger, because her so-called friend had threatened to hex her to make her go if she wouldn't go after detention. Outside, the clock chimed the hour: 9:40pm. The mediwitch would still be awake and willing to take patients. Supposedly.

Swallowing her pride, Katie entered, struggling against the heavy weight of the wooden door as always, her blond hair cascading around her face as she staggered in. The room was hazy, and her head was really starting to hurt.

"Madam Goober?" She walked further in, a frown on her face as she tried to spot the young mediwitch. The woman bristled, looking up from her desk with a sharp look on her face. "My head-" Katie tried to explain, but Madam Goober cut her off.

"I don't treat students who have just injured another on purpose. Especially for something as trivial as a headache," she snapped. "Get out of my hospital wing!" Her glance to the other corner of the room, where Wood was currently sleeping, meant that her meaning was perfectly clear. Katie scowled. She had just come up here, swallowed her pride, and now this stupid woman was telling her that she wouldn't help.

"My – head – hurts," Katie ground out. The room was swimming. Since when had the pain become so bad?

"Go and get a headache potion from Professor Snape, then," the mediwitch said callously.

"Madam Pomfrey said-"

"Madam Pomfrey isn't here, dear. Now get out." Madam Goober actually started ushering her out.

"Bell?" Oliver's voice was slightly hoarse, but still simmering with anger and another emotion she couldn't identify. Was it worry? Katie tried to turn round, but it still wasn't viable. Her legs betrayed her as they shuddered once, and she sped towards the floor and blessed oblivion.

She didn't feel the reluctant arms that kept her from crashing to the carpet.