Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 12

An Interlude

Well, this is a pretty piece of business!" ejaculated Marilla.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, his fork clattering on the table. "Merlin, why are you here?"

"Well, if you want me to sit somewhere else…"

"Ron! Get your fork out of my - Harry!"

Hermione looked disdainfully over at the three boys. The other two boys had abandoned their meals in their excitement –Gilbert even didn't seem to realize that he was brandishing two forks. Harry, who was still wearing the safety gear they had worn for their flying lesson, looked extremely relieved.

Hermione nudged Anne. "Can you believe it? They've managed to get out of trouble. Again."

"Well, of course," interjected Lavender from across the table. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived. He couldn't get kicked out of Hogwarts if he wanted to."

Parvati giggled. "You don't fancy him, do you?"

Lavender wrinkled her nose. "He's not my type. Foreign guys are so much more attractive."

Anne choked on her ice cream. "You can't be talking about Gilbert Blythe?"

"Isn't his accent dreamy?"

Hermione refrained from pointing out that Anne had the same accent.

"Dreamy?" spluttered Anne, "He's the most horrible, insensitive, slow-witted—"

Anne continued heatedly listing off Gilbert's faults, long after Lavender had hastily escaped her wrath and left the table.

Back in the common room, Hermione took Anne off to the side. "Come now, Anne. Surely you can forgive him after he rescued you from the lake?"

"It wasn't rescuing so much as conveniently being forgetful," sniffed Anne.

Truthfully, a tiny seed of doubt was growing inside her. When Gilbert had asked if they could be friends again, she'd felt the old unforgiving resentment towards him, as if he'd only just called her 'carrots' in front of the whole school and dragged her to an alternate universe. But now it seemed that anger was waning; she couldn't bring herself to hold it against him in the same way. It wasn't really his fault – no, bad thoughts.

Secretly, she couldn't figure out if she had already forgiven him or not.

Now Gilbert was the one ignoring Anne – not sparing her so much as a glance. And it was a new, very odd feeling indeed.

The Weasley twins had just finished congratulating Harry when a rather self-satisfied Malfoy sauntered up to the Gryffindor table.

"Having your last meal, Potter?" he drawled, "When does the train come to dump you back with the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you've got those two thugs behind you." said Harry coolly.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting, Potter? I'd be more careful if I were you. Wouldn't want to get in any more trouble on your last night, would you?" Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly.

"Well Harry's not going home tonight," said Gilbert loudly. "McGonagall let him off. No use crying over spilt potion, eh?"

"What are you on about, Blythe?" he sneered. "Should've known they wouldn't kick out famous Harry Potter. Just you wait until my father hears of this."

"I'll bet you'll tell him," scoffed Harry. "You hide behind everyone, don't you Malfoy?"

"I'd beat you anytime on my own," retorted Malfoy. "Tonight, even. We'll settle it with a Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. Crabbe's my second, who's yours?"

"I am," said Ron firmly.

"It's set then. Midnight all right? We'll meet in the trophy room—it's never locked."

After Malfoy left, Harry spun to face Ron. "Hold on, what's a wizard's duel? And what's a second?"

"Well, you have a second in case you die," Ron said casually.

"What!"

"Don't worry about it, Harry," amended Ron quickly, "The most you'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. It's not like any of us know any real spells."

"So what does that leave me as?" interrupted Gilbert.

"The brainless lackey?" suggested Harry helpfully.

"You know, I've never heard of anyone having a third before…" mumbled Ron to himself.

"Wonderful," Gilbert grumbled. "Well, I'm off – Madame Pomfrey wants to see me for something or another."

He left Harry with Ron attempting to give him advice on how to duck spells, and a stern-looking Hermione who was striding purposefully towards the boys.

Anne shot a glance at Gilbert, who had been expressionless since she entered the room.

She had left dinner in a hurry, skidding into the hospital wing nearly ten minutes late. But the apology had died on her lips when she had seen who else was waiting in the hospital wing. Anne had forgotten that they'd scheduled their appointments on the same day.

"Just wait over there, dear," Madame Pomfrey had said, "I'll be with you in a moment."

And that was how she had ended up seated awkwardly across Gilbert Blythe, each pretending to ignore the other.

Anne considered whether or not she should muster up the courage to talk to Gilbert. She should at least properly thank him for being conveniently forgetful. Or had she already? Her memory of the incident was rather clouded.

Perhaps Gilbert's lack of reaction prevented her from approaching her. He had barely acknowledged that Anne was there. Normally, they would have been well into spitting flames at each other, but they were strangely tranquil.

Anne had pulled a book out of his bag once the silence had gotten too overbearing, but she couldn't concentrate on reading it. She was used to filling such silences with her own mindless chatter, but it seemed like the wrong time and the wrong person to be talking to casually.

Madame Pomfrey mercifully popped her head into the waiting room. "Sorry for the wait, my dears." She glanced at her clipboard. "Mr. Blythe, you'll be first."

As Gilbert strode past her pointedly avoiding her eyes, Anne couldn't help but wonder if the icy calmness between them was better or not. Well, at least now she could concentrate on her book.

Gilbert decided that he'd try extra hard not to ever have to end up in the infirmary again.

The moment he'd entered the second room he had been hustled into a hospital gown and forced to down multicolored, bitter-tasting potions. Probably questionable substances, too, judging by the odor they were giving off.

Watching himself glow bright blue was a quite unnerving as well, and by the way Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows drew together, he could only guess it wasn't good news. Gilbert was almost sure Muggle checkups never went like this – he hadn't been to a doctor in the present time period, after all.

Madame Pomfrey herself was rather formidable for such a small woman. "Now you finish the rest of that while I get your results, alright?" she said sternly.

He nodded, grimacing at the taste the last potion left in his mouth.

She came back moments later, frowning at a square of parchment.

"Could you show me your wand, dear?"

He gave it to her, and she tapped it with her once, twice -but with no result. Her frown deepened. "Well, this is unusual." She moved to the fireplace across from the bed, throwing in a handful of powder.

"Minerva?" she called, "Do you have a moment?" She crouched down and spoke to the professor in hushed tones.

Moments later, she reemerged. "Professor Burbage noted that you had a memory lapse? Have you had any other odd symptoms lately? Fainting, or strange dreams?" she inquired.

He nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but only once. Lately, I've just been getting tired easily."

"I see." She pursed her lips. "Well, I'm sorry Mr. Blythe, but it looks like you'll be staying at the infirmary tonight."

He protested. "But—"

"No buts." She said with a note of finality. Her expression softened. "Don't worry, Professor McGongall will explain everything in the morning."

Gilbert sighed. There went his hope of escaping the hospital wing before midnight. It looked like he was in for a long night.

'Where in blazes is Gilbert?" whispered Ron loudly.

"Dunno, he never came back from the infirmary." whispered Harry back. "Pipe down, will you? You'll wake the others." They held their breath as Seamus rolled to the other side of his bed, but thankfully stayed asleep.

"Half-past eleven," said Ron quietly, "We should get going. Gilbert's probably not going to make it back tonight anyhow."

They crept down into the Gryffindor common room. The room was completely dark, and eerily silent. Ron had one hand on the portrait hole, about to push it when a disapproving voice made him jump out of his skin.

"I can't believe you're actually going through with this, Harry."

A/N: thanks for all the reviews, and for sticking with us! That 7-month gap between chapters 10 and 11 was…terrible.

L00ny and I will be replying to reviews individually from now on (unless they're anon), so we don't clutter the fic, and to make sure we don't leave any out on accident.