A/N: I. Love. You. Guys.

When the quietest person in the house suddenly explodes in a shriek of excitement loud enough to crack the ceiling, you know that something must've happened.

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Chapter Six: Riddles and Roosters

It rained all morning.

While a chilly downpour drilled away at the roof of the castle, Arthur sat warm and dry in the Ravenclaw common room, rolling the ring between his fingers. It still gave off that enchanting glow; touch me, touch me...

Arthur hated rain. He'd lived with it for his whole life, but when all was said and done, living with something really didn't make you like it any better. On top of it all, the Quidditch field would be turned to slushy muck in no time, if the clouds kept berating the ground with this onslaught of sheer water. He sighed and let his head fall back to rest against the cool window behind him. What was it like to live in France? Did it constantly rain there too?

He'd been purposely avoiding Francis since last Friday, when he'd embarrassed himself completely and utterly by agreeing to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He didn't even know what had happened, really; all he knew was that he'd been thinking about that frog's eyes, of all the damned things, and the next minute he'd told Francis that he would try out. What had gotten into him these days? Arthur shook his head at his own stupidity.

Checking his watch, he realized that it was almost time to get down to tryouts, and shivered in dread as he left the common room, slipping the ring back onto his finger for luck. But just as he stepped out into the corridor, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Everything fallssss into placce

You will welcome death'sss embracccce

"What?"

Arthur was shivering still, only now it was not from dread of the rain outside. The corridor was long, and wide, and completely empty.

So who was speaking?

"Arthur? Mon ami, Arthur?"

A smooth French accent yanked him back to reality, and he suddenly looked up to see Francis walking down the hall toward him, broom in hand, splattered with mud and dripping wet. Wait—had the Slytherin tryouts already happened, or...

Arthur shook his head, suddenly feeling foggy and sluggish, like he was just now waking up. Francis came up next to him, looking a bit concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, brushing his wet hair out of his face. "I thought you were coming to tryouts..."

Arthur looked around, suddenly realizing that none of the pictures on the wall in front of him were the same, and whirled around only to find that the door to the Ravenclaw common room was not there. He dropped his face into his hands, trying to remember.

"Arthur?" Francis asked gently, placing a warm hand on the smaller boy's shoulder. Arthur shook his head, then looked up at him with confusion.

"Where are we?" he asked. Now Francis was really starting to worry.

"We're down near the dungeons, just outside the Slytherin common room," he answered slowly, wondering how Arthur could have possibly gotten lost this easily. Arthur shook his head, trying to remember how he'd gotten from the Ravenclaw corridor all the way down to Slytherin common room in a heartbeat and not even known it, but then he checked his watch.

5:41 PM.

Not ten seconds ago, he could've sworn it was only nine in the morning.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Francis asked, not realizing he was biting his lip. Arthur nodded shakily.

"Y-yeah, my watch just must be wrong..."

Francis looked over his shoulder and decided not to comment on the fact that it wasn't. Something was seriously wrong here. He gently took Arthur's hand before he realized what he was doing and then let go of it again, blushing lightly as he spoke.

"Come with me," Francis murmured, thinking quickly. He didn't want to leave the Brit here by himself; he was certainly acting strange. "I need to get cleaned up, and it's not long until dinner anyway."

"F-fine," Arthur agreed in a small voice completely unfamiliar to Francis, before he seemed to drag himself out of whatever scared trance he was in and the familiar smirk returned. "Filch'll have a fit if he sees that you're the one tracking the mud all over."

"That is true," Francis grinned at seeing his old frenemy back, and the pair turned to continue toward the Slytherin common room.

"Where've you been, mate?"

Patrick's exasperated voice greeted Arthur as he strode into the Great Hall a few minutes later, Francis at his side. The Slytherin winked evilly before walking off to join Gil and Antonio at his table, and Arthur scowled at him before continuing on his way to sit next to his fellow Ravenclaw.

"I..." don't know, Arthur wanted to say, but he held back, mind racing to find a quick and believable excuse. "I was studying in the library, and I fell asleep. Lost track of time."

Patrick snorted. "Lost track of time? My arse! You lost track of nearly nine hours today?"

"I-I guess," Arthur muttered, a terrible feeling twisting his gut. It wasn't dread, nor guilt. He wasn't sure what it was, to be honest; all he knew was that it was horrible and he wanted to get away from it.

Patrick's gaze softened at seeing his friend so cornered and scared-looking all of a sudden, but at that very moment the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Filch, the caretaker, was wheezing in, running as fast as he possibly could. He stumbled to a halt just inside the doors, still gasping painfully.

"Dead pile-" he yelled, between pants. "Of roosters- in the dungeon-"

Arthur's blood ran cold.

He should know something about this. Shouldn't he? He felt like he should remember, but he was only grasping desperately at loose threads. The room around him was in chaos, all the students yelling and jumping up from the tables in a panic while he sat trying to figure things out. Arthur was one of the only people to have not leapt to his feet when Dumbledore set off a gunshot with his wand to call for order. An unnatural silence fell, broken only by the echoey sound of their headmaster's voice.

"Prefects, if you would escort your houses back to their dormitories, teachers will come with me to the dungeon."

He didn't even have to say anything more. In little more than an instant, everyone had been rounded up into four uneven lines and they were all being led toward their respective common rooms; the Slytherin students curled down into the deeps of the school, while Gryffindor house was being herded up a staircase opposite of the one that the Ravenclaws were climbing now. Arthur caught a glimpse of Matthew through the chaos. The quiet fourth year looked a bit scared at all this noise, hugging himself closely, while Alfred was clearly not helping by jabbering excitedly to him. Mattie managed to lock eyes with Arthur for a moment, and shot him a look that plainly pleaded 'save me!'.

Arthur wished he could, but was only able to manage a small smile of reassurance before the staircase turned a jagged corner and he was swept from sight.

They continued without stopping once until the entire Ravenclaw house was corralled in the common room, which of course was even more chaotic and noisy than the explosion of the Great Hall had been. Arthur escaped up to his dormitory, where he stripped down to his boxers and a baggy T-shirt and collapsed into bed.

He was too exhausted to even think anymore, and was quickly dragged down into a fitful sleep plagued by mysterious riddles and blood-soaked rooster feathers.

Patrick rolled out of bed the next morning, fairly late since it was Sunday. He grinned as he looked out the window to see that the October sun had emerged at long last, hastily pulling on his robes to grab some breakfast and then head for the lake. But he paused as the twisted sheets of Arthur's bed caught his eye.

His friend was still asleep, occasionally twitching or moving restlessly with whatever dream he was having. Patrick sighed, walking over to watch the boy toss and turn for a moment and remembering yesterday. He'd never seen Arthur act so... Un-Arthurish before. It had scared him a bit more than he wanted to admit.

Well, there was only one thing to do. Patrick grabbed his wand and left the room with a silent air of resolve to get to the bottom of all this, and an agreement with himself to let Arthur rest for as long as he needed it.

Patrick trotted from the common room down the steps, nearly slamming head-on into Gil as he rounded a corner and was just barely able to skid to a halt before the moment of impact.

"Hey!" he laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to kill someone, one of these days!"

Gil gave that cocky grin. "I aim to please, Patrick. So, what has you out on this fine day?"

"Food," Patrick answered simply as they entered the Great Hall.

There was hardly anyone still eating this late, and rather than heading for the Ravenclaw table as he usually would've, Patrick followed Gilbert over to flop next to Francis and across from Tonio.

"Bonjour," Francis greeted with a smile. "This is a pleasant surprise."

Patrick shrugged. "I wanted to ask if you have any idea where Artie disappeared to for nine hours yesterday."

Francis's fork fell with a clatter. "He was gone for that long?"

Patrick just nodded. "I was looking all over for him. Saw him leave the common room, and then he was just... gone."

Francis pushed his plate away, standing up. "We'll discuss this on the lake."

"No signs of him?"

"None. Not even a trace."

They were walking along the banks of the black lake, the branches of the Whomping Willow flowing lazily in the distance. A full hour had gone by, but Francis and Patrick were still thinking in circles as they tried to unravel the mystery of yesterday. Francis sighed, flopping onto the ground in defeat and patting the soft grass next to him.

"I have no idea what could've happened," he concluded as Patrick sat down next to him. "You've known Arthur for five years longer than I have, and if you don't know then we're not going to get anywhere by exhausting ourselves."

"Amen," Patrick muttered, lying back to watch the clouds. It was a moment before Francis joined him, folding his arms behind his head and enjoying the feel of the soft cushion of grass beneath his body.

They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Patrick finally spoke.

"On a completely different subject, I think I should tell you that there's been quite a few rumors floating around. About... you and Arthur."

Francis quirked an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Well," Patrick continued. "It's mostly the girls, but there seem to be quite a few people who think you two are... dating or something."

"Bloody hell," Francis replied, mocking Arthur's British accent. He shot Patrick a smile to show that no harm was done. "It's amazing the theories people come up with," he muttered.

Patrick laughed for a moment, before his air faded back to seriousness. "I don't care if they're true or not, but all I know is that you and Artie seem to hang around each other a lot. You'd better take good care of my best mate, because if you don't you can count on a premature death."

Francis smirked. "I'm not much in the mood to die soon, so I guess I'd better be good to him."

"Thanks," Patrick replied. He actually sounded relieved.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Francis asked.

Patrick nodded. "We might as well be brothers. I know a lot of things about him that he wouldn't've ever told anyone else, and I can judge his reaction to almost any situation."

"Almost any situation?" Francis inquired curiously.

"Except for yesterday's."

A/N: No, I haven't been holding out on you; this is the product of yesterday night. I have no idea how I managed to be able to write this much in five short hours, but all I know is that it happened. But as for the next chapter... my brain is fried of ideas. Normal-school activities, anyone? If you've got something other than homework, Quidditch or sneaking out that I could make them do, please leave it in the reviews!

Thanks a million from Maple!