"John, wake up."
Blearily, I raised my eyebrows, still half asleep, and grunted with dim recognition.
"John, for god's sake, get up."
"What?" I mumbled, slowly noticing the panicked tone of whoever was standing over my bed.
"Just come down to the Hall, quickly."
By the time I had heaved myself up and rubbed my eyes, whoever was talking to me was gone. In fact, the whole room was deserted, bunks empty, covers thrown back and hastily packed papers in overflowing trunks.
Something was wrong.
Frowning, I tossed back the covers and dressed hastily; with each movement my heart rate increased. My frown deepened as I tried to remember who had woken me up. Something is definitely wrong.
As I jogged down the stairs from the dormitory, out through the portrait and into the corridors, my fears became more pronounced. There was no one around. Not even a whisper of a ghost. The candles on the walls barely flickered and my shoes made a frighteningly loud noise on the stone floor.
Nervous, I rounded the final corner and almost fell over my own feet in my hurry to get down the stairs. The merciful sound of students reached my ears as I dashed through the huge oak doors and into the Great Hall, expecting to be blissfully ignored as always.
Not this time.
A thousand eyes. A thousand faces. A thousand expressions of confusion, anger, shock, terror and suspicion all turned to stare at me.
For once in my life, every eye was paying attention to me.
This is not what I wanted it to be like.
Stupidly, I wiped my mouth instinctively, as if all the students in Hogwarts were fixated with me because I had something on my face.
"He doesn't know," someone whispered, but the Hall remained painfully silent.
I could now feel my ears burning as if they had been set alight and my feet rooted to the spot, and I was sure that I would not be able to move if I tried. My heart had stopped all together. Is it possible to die of embarrassment?
"What?" I asked hoarsely, even my voice refusing to work. Too many eyes to count. This is just part of that dream. You'll wake up in a minute.
"Watson, come with me," an arm suddenly dragged me off to the side, and all the faces turned with me, following my stumbling steps all the way across the Hall. A door closed behind me and all the eyes disappeared, yet I felt no relief.
I turned in the small office to see the Headmaster, Professor Ctheiz, sat behind a large mahogany desk, and the man who had dragged me away from those faces, the head of Slytherin House, Professor Vonich, stood next to him. As terrified as I was, I did noticed that both of their expressions were serious. Extremely serious.
What have I done wrong?
Neither of them spoke. My eyes flitted over Professor Ctheiz's face, which was lined and ridged with age, his dark eyes hollow. Vonich stood strongly beside the desk, his own eyes glittering.
"There is something we have to tell you, and it may come as a shock," Professor Ctheiz said, surprisingly gently.
I swallowed.
"A student has been killed," he continued. "Early this morning."
I felt like the floor was falling away beneath my feet and I could no longer stand. "Who?" I barely managed to whisper. Thousands of possibilities screeched through my heat, blood roaring in my ears.
"Jacob Jones."
The Headmaster continued talking but the words no longer reached me. I felt like a continuous bucket of ice was being smashed onto my head, over and over again, as if it was trying to crush those two words out of existence.
"No," my voice acted of its own accord, and the Headmaster stopped talking, opening his mouth as if he wasn't sure how to respond.
"No, no," I repeated, trailing off into a whisper. "No."
"We knew you were friends with him, and-"
"How did-?" I croaked.
He paused again, his expression sombre. "He was poisoned."
I was shaking. My legs were shaking, arms, shoulders, head. Dream, remember, all a dream. Nightmare.
"Why?" I was hardly even aware of the words coming out of my mouth.
"This is why we brought you here, John." Professor Vonich suddenly spoke, with a somewhat grateful tone that we were now on his desired topic of conversation. In my horrified state I couldn't respond. I stood in stunned silence and waited for him to continue.
"We know that Jacob loved Herbology-" hearing his name drove sharp pains into my chest- "and would have never accidentally eaten wolfsbane."
His voice was laced with something I couldn't place- arrogance?
"What's this me got to do with?" I didn't even notice that the words came out in the wrong order until Professor Ctheiz frowned. I choked the words out again. "What's this got to do with me?"
Pause.
"We understand you know the boy Sherlock Holmes."
This conversation was darting all over the place in my head, stabbing each thing it found that it knew would hurt me the most. Jacob Jones, one of my best friends, who I had known for four years and treated like a brother; now, Sherlock Holmes, who I had met four weeks ago but already thought of him as a friend. I wanted this conversation to stop.
"Early this morning, students saw Holmes enter the Forbidden Forest, near the Hippogriff paddock," Vonich continued. Stop. Just stop talking. "Jacob Jones accompanied him. Ten minutes later, Holmes re-emerged and crossed to the Lake." He paused. "Jones was not with him."
"He killed him?" I stared blankly at the head of Slytherin.
"We aren't completely sure," the Headmaster replied slowly. "Holmes has also been spotted around the Forest," he paused to cough heavily, "Seemingly searching for something."
Suddenly I thought of something, something that chilled my icy heart even further. I recalled the last conversation I had had with Sherlock Holmes.
"There isn't any aconite in the supply cabinet, nor in Vonich's office. Is there a specific reason for this or should I go out and collect my own?"
I blinked blearily, my brain dimly stirring as I tried to keep up with him. "Sherlock, I don't know who gave you the password, but can you talk to me tomorrow?" I said hoarsely. "I'm tired, I have work."
He waved a hand impatiently. "This is more important than your work."
"Oh god," I rasped hoarsely.
Aconite is another name for wolfsbane.
"What is it, John?" Professor Ctheiz frowned, looking concerned.
"Have you thought of something?" Vonich added. The tone in his voice was so despisingly excitable that the pool of hatred and confusion and despair bubbled in my stomach.
I made a snap decision.
Don't tell him.
"It's just so awful," I choked, and that sentence needed no lie. "I… I can't believe it."
Silence for a moment in the tiny office. I couldn't help but notice Vonich's somewhat disappointed expression.
It slowly began to dawn on me what had actually happened. He's gone.
Something had disappeared inside me, something important and somewhat vital.
No one close to me like that has ever gone before.
He had always been so shy. Not as cripplingly socially awkward as I was, but he hardly ever started conversations with people he had never met before, and no matter how many times I found him and Davies in the library talking about girls, I never saw him with any.
Another thought hit me. "Where is…" It feels wrong to call him Sherlock. "Where is Holmes now? Can I talk to him?"
I wasn't sure what made me add the extra sentence.
To my surprise, although not much else could shock me today, Professor Ctheiz's face scrunched in what looked like embarrassment. "He's not here."
"Where is he?"
"We, er," he coughed again, "don't know."
"You don't know?" I gaped.
"He escaped," Vonich said shortly, cutting off the Headmaster. "We believe he may have tried to return to his previous school."
"Can't you catch him?" I said, dismayed, not even sure how my voice was still working. I realised my legs were still shaking.
The two Professors exchanged a glance.
I took that as a no.
"I don't want to go back out there," I said shakily, gesturing to the door behind me.
Professor Ctheiz looked relieved at the change of topic. "Of course not," he said, trying to be comforting. "You can go through this door-" he nodded to the oaken door to the right of his desk.
I started to stumble toward the door, just wanting to leave this office and that conversation behind.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Vonich suddenly said irritably. I glanced at him and mustered up the energy to nod blankly.
"The funeral will be on Tuesday, John," Professor Ctheiz added more gently. "You are excused from lessons until then, and I will inform the students to give you time to grieve. Hunter is also excused."
I need to talk to Davies.
"Thank you," I muttered in reply. With one last glance to the two teachers, I opened the other door and walked shakily into the blissfully deserted corridor beyond.
.
I'm so so so sorry it's taken me so long to update this. Thank you to all the wonderful people who read this, and I hope this lateness hasn't put you off. I'm so busy with exams and everything at the moment.
Hope you like this chapter anyway.