Chapter 15: I Sense A Tragedy

I credited the insinuation that Monday was the worst day of the week. I used to think it was because of the whiplash of immersion in work after a brief respite. Now, I happened to suspect it had foreshadowing effects. Or perhaps fate simply planned all hell to break loose specifically on Mondays?

Sitting at the Ravenclaw table in my usual seat of study, I was already scowling. I should have been happy; there was still a faint buzz within me from the events of yesterday, even with the overhanging cloud of Al's university intentions thrown into the mix. But that buzz was stamped out maliciously by a single essay. My Potions essay, to be precise. The one spread before me on the table. Potions always had such an effect upon me; either it aroused a jovial high, or succeeded in markedly dimming my day for the sheer redundancy of studying that which I felt most passionate about. Today it was certainly the latter.

It probably didn't help that I'd slept appallingly the previous night and I could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. Typical, that I would get a migraine when the day had already started off so fabulously. I was basically living off the potions to keep them at bay at present. There would be no way I'd manage to wade through the increasingly heavy attentions of my father's business associates and my own studies otherwise.

So my mood was already dark to say the least. That gloominess was only exacerbated by the sidelong stares that my fellow students were giving me. I knew exactly what they were about. Winona had informed me late last night just before turning in to bed about the development on that front. Curious? Indignant? The students – and some of the professors – needed to learn to but out of the business of others. So they had even more of an opinion about Al's and my relationship, did they?

Well, negative publicity was something the Malfoy family was not unfamiliar with. True, we hadn't been subjected to anything openly incriminating in years – with Father as CEO of LeFay Connected, not to mention a prominent Director, people hardly dared – but I was indeed familiar with it. So, while it angered me, and likely contributed to my disgruntled mood, it was not overly trying.

No, what really pushed me over the edge was what came with the Daily Prophet. Eight o'clock on the dot, as always, a flurry of owls from tawny to white, black to grey, flooded the Hall and descended with their mail. I received two – from Lord Bernardo Hummington and Ms Eleanor Marsbury today. I'd never met either of them before – and that too contributed to my mood. A brief, chance glance at Zachariah sitting next to me, however, a glance at the page he was reading and the picture of a younger yet no less familiar finger in the very centre, and my mood plummeted exponentially.

Zachariah gave a squawk of indignation when I yanked the paper from his hands. I must have looked murderous, however, for he didn't object further. Not that I would have cared. In that moment, I had attention only for the article in my hands, to the exclusion of all else. Even my essay seemed utterly trivial.

MUGGLE FEVER: GRIPPED BY THE TREND

It is commonly acknowledged that Muggle-Wizarding interrelations are at an all time high. With scores of witches and wizards moving to embrace the Muggle way of life, we see some of our most prominent idols and rising stars partaking of the non-magical world.

But how far is too far?

Black sheep of the family, Albus Severus Potter, may have just taken that extra step past the limit. The son of world Saviour and defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter, Albus has always been an oddity. Perceived by many as being a disappointment to his parents and his family name, Albus has repeatedly sought to ostracise himself from his fellows. A classmate describes him as "quiet and reserved, he doesn't really speak much to anybody". But has this lost boy perhaps fallen beyond the bounds of what is deemed acceptable for the up and coming generation of young wizards?

Tips from an anonymous source claim that Albus Potter may have taken to embracing the Muggle world just a little too profoundly. Never one to participate in extra curricular sports as his older brother James Sirius, nor to excel in his school studies like younger sister Lily Luna, Albus appears to have committed himself to pursuing distinctly un-Wizarding preoccupations. Latest sources suggests that Albus may even be drifting towards a career in the Muggle world; our source describes the enthusiasm of the second eldest Potter when describing to friends of his plans for attending an as of yet unidentified Muggle University, with intentions to undertake botanical studies. What this means for the general public, for the young witches and wizards who still perceive the Potter family as the role models for society is yet to be determined.

The discovery of such an abnormality in Albus' character seems to have taken a turn for the demonstrative in his seventh year. Only a month ago, numerous sources describe a blossoming romance with Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy…

I stopped reading after that. Not because I wanted to but because I was seeing red and it actually became painful to squint at the text any longer. This was bad. Bad was such an inadequate word, but bad? Yes, it was certainly a word to describe the situation. Bad, and heinous, and infuriating. Disgusting.

How dare they!

I'd never been one to get affronted on another's behalf before. Not for my peers, anyway. I had enough affront for the persistent individuals that still disdained the Malfoy name, holding fast to their prejudices like a lifeline. So it was a bit of a novel feeling to be so enraged for someone else. I couldn't say I was even terribly upset about seeing my own name tarnished in the papers for the second time in as many months.

But enraged I certainly was. Black Sheep… Oddity… Role Model… The words replayed through my mind over and over again. Role model? Who, exactly, if not the faceless editors and journalists, tagged Al as a role model? Certainly not Al himself. I knew for a fact that he would always do his utmost to detach himself from the public and their image of him, in both a conscious and unconscious way. Really, he didn't want people to acknowledge him. Was it so hard for them to simply leave him alone?

I didn't know how long I sat there glaring at the paper in my hands without reading. I likely would have continued to do so, too, had not a feather-light touch to my shoulder drawn me from my seething contemplation. Turning with deliberate slowness towards the source of the touch, glaring over my shoulder. And felt my fury nearly drown beneath a wave of surprise and confusion.

Rhali. Rhali had approached me. She'd touched my shoulder. And apparently it was entirely of her own choice. The dark haired girl was sending dagger-like glares of her own towards the whispering students around her – because of course they were whispering. They had a fellow classmate in the paper! – before dragging her attention back to me.

And she spoke. That was perhaps the most startling part of all. "Scor, we need to go see Ally."

I frowned, confused. "What –?"

"Ally doesn't deal with things like this very well. At all. And after what everyone's been like since yesterday, too?" Rhali's voice was so low and quiet it was barely audible, but there was intensity in her tone that drove away any dismissiveness that I might have felt. Which I didn't. "You know he freaks out about things sometimes, yeah?"

I nodded slowly, feeling an upwelling of anger rise within me once more. "Yeah. When we were in the papers in the Christmas break…"

Rhali nodded. "Yeah. That. Doesn't deal well. At all. I'm going to try and head him off before he gets to the Hall."

She said nothing further. That was all, and it was so Rhali, so typically Rhali, that she had barely turned and begun hastening with her usual shadowy, unobtrusive steps towards the door when I was on my feet and following her. We nearly ran side by side from the Great Hall.

"You know the way to the Hufflepuff Basement?" Rhali asked, tossing me a glance as we headed down the right hand hallway leading from the Entrance Hall.

I nodded. "All prefects know."

"Do you know the fastest way?"

I frowned, glancing towards Rhali yet not slowing my step. "Houses always keep the fastest routes to their own common rooms a secret. Everybody knows that."

Sending me a scathing glance, Rhali nodded. "Yeah, I know." Her voice was disgruntled, bordering on irate. "It was just a hope."

"We'll just have to get there before he comes out, then."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Mr Prefect," Rhali grumbled. She did pick up her pace, however.

We made short work of the trip to the Hufflepuff common room. I was sure it wasn't the shortest route, but we were fast all the same. Rhali even suggested a shortcut that I hadn't considered before; I didn't pause to think how she knew the way. Of course she would; Al would have undoubtedly told her himself.

It was hardly of consequence, however. My fury had declined marginally on the trip and now seethed somewhere around extreme aggravation. It was, however, almost completely overwhelmed by an all-consuming determination. Get to Al, make sure he doesn't see the Prophet, and if he does make sure he doesn't freak out. Simple enough. Simple. Right.

A first year was just clambering his way out of the Basement when Rhali and I skidded to a halt before the barrels. The boy paused mid climb, an expression of alarm quickly fading to affront as he shifting his gaze back and forth between us. "Hey, you're not supposed to know where –"

"Shut up, kid, or I'll kick you so hard in the bollocks you'll taste yourself this time next year," Rhali growled. She sounded sincere enough that the boy silenced, paled, and swallowed nervously. I didn't feel much compassion for him, to be truthful. My mind was only focused upon one thing in particular. Rhali continued before I could have spoken anyway. "Is Ally still in there?"

"Ally?"

"Albus Potter," I clarified, because the wordless grumble that ensued from Rhali's mouth suggested she was incapable of doing so herself.

The boy's face cleared for a moment before clouding once more. His expression became wary, and something else I couldn't identify flashed briefly across his face. Something… dubious? "Oh, him. Yeah, no, he just left a couple of minutes ago."

"Bugger!" Rhali exclaimed, causing the Hufflepuff boy to nearly jump from his skin. I was surprised he didn't tumble backwards into the barrel from whence he'd come. "Alright, you little tosser, I'll let you go this time but just because I've gotta go."

I blinked at the back of Rhali's head in bemusement for a few moments– was that threat really warranted? Did it even make sense? – before actually registering that she had turned tail and was racing back the way she'd come. I had to admire her dedication, even if I felt much the same for Al myself; Rhali loved her friend and was sorely worried for him. I paused only to nod my head in tokenistic gratitude to the still-pale Hufflepuff boy before hastening after her once more. I felt a common theme that morning, what with me chasing after Rhali for the second time in ten minutes. I batted the thought away as irrelevant, though. Focus on Al. Al needed me – us – and Merlin we needed to catch him before he got to the Great Hall. I felt a clench of worry tighten my gut at the thought of us being too late and didn't complain when Rhali sped our steps to a run.

We didn't make it all the way. Nearly, but not quite. It was a benefit for once that I was following behind Rhali, for when she swung at full speed around a corner and collided into an oncoming fellow student it was they who tumbled in a heap to the ground. I had to dance and stumble to the side to avoid tripping over their flailing limbs, but managed to retain my feet. It was a near thing.

"Ozzy!"

At Rhali's exclamation, the struggling ceased. With remarkable speed that left me wondering if such collisions happened often, Rhali and Ozzy managed to untangle themselves from one another. They were on their feet again an instant. There was no pause for greeting, no exchange of pleasantries. I felt like an audience member to a well-practiced show as they both immediately launched into drilling one another.

"Have you seen Al?"

Ozzy nodded, his jaw tightening and a frown settling heavily on his features. "He was in the Great Hall."

"Was?"

"Gone now. He took off after seeing the Prophet."

"You didn't try to stop him?"

"Of course I did! What do you take me for, Rhali? But he was bad, real bad. We've gotta –"

"Did he head back to the Hufflepuff common room?"

My eyes darted between the pair of them, watching the volley of words like a sports enthusiast focused on the batted ball. My agitation didn't even have time to voice itself they were so efficient.

Ozzy shrugged. "Dunno. I assume so. He just took off as soon as he came out of the Great Hall. I was looking for him this morning before breakfast but –"

"What, and you didn't catch him? Fucking hell, Ozzy, you're supposed to be the runner of the three of us!"

"Since when!"

"Since you've been bloody well practicing for the last half a year is when! What the hell do you even practice for if you don't actually use those blasted legs of yours? And Al's such a twig of a thing, no bloody muscle on him. Are you honestly telling me you couldn't catch up to him?"

"He caught me off-guard!"

And just like that, their efficiency splintered into fragments.

I couldn't blame them. Not really. They were both so obviously worried for their friend, for Al, and their feelings of helplessness appeared to be getting in the way of their practicality. Nonetheless, that agitation that had been withheld as a thrumming tension suddenly erupted in torrents.

"- knew you were just pretending. You probably go down to the lake for a sleep in the afternoons –"

"Yeah, sure, Rhali. And in the mornings, too? I get up at the crack of dawn to go down to the lake for a snooze? Really?"

"I wouldn't put it past you! You're an idiot, so –"

"I'm the idiot? What have you been doing all morning, Rhali?"

"Obviously more than you! At least I went to the Hufflepuff Basement –"

"And a great lot of good that obviously did –"

"Shut your face, Ozzy –"

"Stop!"

My voice rung commandingly throughout the corridor, rebounding off the walls as though I'd amplified it with a charm. I hadn't, but I was frustrated and worried enough for anger to give heat and volume to my words. I was worried about Al, that worry building in my chest with every passing moment we wasted. I was known for having a prefect's voice, and in this instance it was put to good use..

I'd anticipated having to make numerous attempts to cut through Rhali and Ozzy's ranting, but they both snapped their jaws shut and whipped their heads towards me in an instant. Granted, Rhali gave me a glare that nearly curdled my blood and Ozzy's was little better, but at least I had their attention. And I had no qualms about glaring straight back at them. "Don't you think we have more important things to be doing right now than arguing? Like finding Al?"

And just like that, the anger drained from the both of them. Worry immediately sprung in its place. I almost regretted the change – they looked heartbroken, the pair of them. Almost as concerned as I felt. Almost, but not quite. At least now they were ready to take proper action.

Ozzy nodded curtly. "Right. Yeah, right. Come on, let's go." He nodded decisively to the two of us, as if he even needed to suggest it. Without another word, we turned back the way we'd come and raced back towards the Basement.

There's a reason the Hufflepuff common room is 'supposedly' the only one that hasn't been infiltrated in all the history of Hogwarts. The password, from what I could glean, was entirely removed from the systems that are used for the other common rooms. Something about a rhythmic drumming on the barrels. I'd heard by word of mouth that attempted infiltrators inevitably ended up with a face-full of vinegar and a forceful ejection from the passageway.

Still, it wasn't exactly a mystery where it was. And, had any of the three of us had any further suspicions, the trio of fourth year girls that were clambering from the barrel heap were a bit of a giveaway. They all froze when they saw us approach, frowns immediately settling upon their faces. At least they didn't attempt to reprimand us like the first year had, though; they weren't quite so oblivious as to hold credibility in the secrecy of common room location. Still, it was considered a bit rude to act upon such general knowledge.

I didn't much care for etiquette that morning, however. Slowing to a jog and finally stopping before the girls, all of whom were folding their arms in identical poses of dissatisfaction, I drew upon my prefect status and asserted my dominance. "You. Have you seen Albus Potter come by here?"

In unison, the three girls glanced towards one another. Their eyes took on that same wariness the first year's had adopted. It worried me as much as it vexed me. The middle girl, a slip of a thing with twin black braids, pursed her lips before replying. "And what if we have?"

Yes, they were disgruntled at our approach. I couldn't care less about that either, though. They'd tell me, or I'd make them tell me. Chilling my voice, I slowly folded my own arms across my chest, infinitesimally straightening my back to give myself an impression of looming. It was an art I'd perfected long ago, when I'd realised my height, while tall, was not quite tall enough to successfully intimidate everyone who approached me. I knew without doubt that I could even make the beanpole Ozzy feel diminutive with my display. I'd worked with more arrogant minds than his before and met little enough resistance.

"This is a matter of extreme importance. You will go into your common room and request that Albus come out to meet us this instant."

The girls exchanged another glance. The wariness was still there, but there was also a distinctive tinge of cowing in their demeanour. My looming always did work a treat. It was the girl on the right, a plump brunette with thin lips that spoke up this time. "We can't do that."

"Oh yes you will," Rhali growled. Her tone was impressively intimidating in itself, and the girls cringed further. "Because if you don't, I'll –"

"Rhali," Ozzy interrupted. I caught a glimpse of his restraining hand upon her arm, and worried for a moment that she was actually going to launch herself at the Hufflepuff girls. Only for a moment, however, before I turned my full attention back upon them. "I'm only going to ask this one more time. Go and tell Albus –"

"We can't," the braid girl spoke up once more. She wrung her hands nervously in sudden distress. "It's not that we don't want to. It's just that we can't."

"Why not?"

The third girl, the shortest of the lot, evidently felt a need to contribute. "He won't let us."

"What do you mean?" Rhali demanded. I could see her scowling without having to glance over my shoulder.

"He came running into the room a couple of minutes ago and locked himself in the seventh year boys dormitory." The braid girl said. "There's a whole bunch of seventh years knocking, trying to get him to open up, but he won't. Not even when Grettle asked him –"

"Grettle's here?" I asked, blessing the fates that the seventh year prefect was already inside. This could work. "Would you go and get her for me?"

"Well, no," the short girl said slowly, as though she were talking to a child. Precocious little chit. Anger and frustration rising, I immediately turned a glare upon her that caused her to shrink. Or maybe that was Rhali's glare; from my periphery I could see that the girl looked ready to chew nails. The fourth year scuffed a foot uneasily, glancing sidelong at her friends. "S-she's trying to get him to open the door…"

"Then go and ask her –"

"What's going on here?"

Oh, thank Merlin! I glanced over the shoulders of the three girls at the interruption, spying the blonde head of Dillon Anderson poking its way through the barrel entrance of the Basement. The seventh year prefect wasn't all that bright but he was generally good-natured. Great for inter-house competition, but he knew when to switch such competitiveness off at the end of a game.

I immediately disregarded the fourth years and turned my full attention upon Dillon. "Have you talked to Al yet?"

A strange expression crossed Dillon's face and he immediately dropped his chin, giving undue attention to the act of clambering into the hallway. I'd caught a glimpse it however. It looked like… guilt? When he lifted his eyes to me once more, however, only wariness settled on his features. What was that all about? All of the Hufflepuffs appeared to be nervously walking on eggshells. It only added to my regrowing anger. "No, we haven't. He won't open the door to the dorm."

"You haven't just opened it yourself?" Ozzy asked, his voice worried and slightly incredulous.

Dillon shook his head firmly, frowning. "No, of course not. That would be… if someone wants privacy, you don't just barge in on them. He locked the door."

"Oh, well, that explains everything," Rhali said sarcastically. A glance her way caught the tail end of an eye roll before she was back to glaring at the Hufflepuff prefect. "You don't think the fact that he's locked himself in the dormitory may be cause for concern?"

"Of course it is," Dillon mumbled, and I caught a flash of that same guilt flickering across his face once more. "But his privacy…"

"Have you managed to talk to him at all?" I asked. We were getting nowhere, and I didn't like the thought of leaving Al alone. Ozzy had mentioned, however briefly and in passing, the panic attack Al had fallen prey to after the last newspaper article. Well, he hadn't said it was the article exactly, and I had my doubts given the simultaneous issue that had arisen, but still. I didn't want to leave Al alone for any longer than I absolutely had to. He was remarkably blasé about most things, but I knew he needed support sometimes. And he'd offered more than enough of that to me over the past few weeks. Now it was my turn.

Dillon shook his head. "No. Grettle's trying –"

"Yeah, the girls said," Ozzy interjected redundantly.

"- but nothing yet. We'll keep trying."

"You don't think that maybe you should just unlock the bloody door?" Rhali growled. She'd taken a step towards Dillon, and I didn't know if it was her usual unkempt appearance or the unusual gleam in her eyes but she looked slightly manic. I couldn't blame Dillon for shrinking away from her slightly.

"It's rude," Dillon replied, though the flush to his cheeks indicated he too heard how ridiculous he sounded. "It's intrusive."

"What did you do?"

All of us, Rhali, Dillon, myself and the three fourth years now standing to the side and watching the proceedings as though it were a stage show, turned towards Ozzy at his words. He was frowning, though in something bordering on anger. A slow, building anger that I'd never seen in him before. And again, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a guilty cringe from Dillon. What does Ozzy suspect…?

I didn't give Dillon the chance to speak again. Striving for my most commanding voice, I straightened my back further and pinned him with a stare. "Dillon, let us in. We need to talk to him."

"Hey, you can't just come into our common room!" One of the girls – I thought it was the shortest one – objected shrilly. I didn't even glance towards her. My attention was focused solely upon Dillon, who very obviously didn't object right away.

Slowly, his lips pursing again, he shook his head. "You're not supposed to –"

"Look, arsehole, unless you're actually going to do something yourself, let us in your bloody room." Rhali, ever the eloquent conversationalist, looked ready to offer Dillon the favour of a broken nose. I wouldn't put it past her, would almost be inclined to assist the delivery. "Obviously you've done something incredibly stupid, you twat, so why don't you just step aside and let his friends try and help him."

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Evidently, Dillon felt the brief tirade was quite perfect too. He paused for only a minute longer, obviously at war with himself, before sighing heavily and nodding. The fourth year girls gave a communal mew of protest but surprisingly the Hufflepuff prefect turned a silencing glare upon them. "Oh, do be quiet girls. Don't be ridiculous."

"But… no one but a Hufflepuff has ever gone into the Hufflepuff common room." The plump girl's bottom lip quivered as though she was actually going to cry.

Dillon snorted. "If you really believe that, then you're more hopelessly ignorant than I'd previously thought. Haven't you seen Kelly bring her boyfriend Achilles in here every Thursday for the past four months?"

Well. That was news to me. And apparently to the girls too, for their eyes blew open wide.

I didn't have a moment to consider the situation further, however. I didn't really care to in that moment either, for with a flick of his fingers Dillon gestured us towards the Basement barrels. In a rapping rhythm of his knuckles, tapping out a pattern too fast for me to make out, he was clambering back into the largest of them and disappeared from the corridor. I didn't hesitate, pulling myself in after him within moments.

Crawling. The Hufflepuffs actually had to crawl. Well, I suppose they could have walked if they were bent nearly double, but… really? How ridiculous. Had my concern for Al not been paramount, I would have objected to the indignity of it all. As it was… well, dirt stains were a pain to get out of trouser knees, but not impossible.

We passed post haste through the common room. I got an impression of yellow, of homeliness and plush seating, of brass and timber décor, thick rugs and a prevalence of greenery before we passed down a succession of shallow steps to what were evidently the dormitories. The seventh year boy's dormitory, apparently, if the stoppered bottleneck of curious students crowding a deliberate three feet away from Grettle Jamison was any indication.

Grettle was standing pressed against the door, her palms flat against the oaken wood and frowning with worry. That frown immediately shifted to disapproval when she noticed myself, Rhali and Ozzy following closely behind Dillon, stemmed at the base of the steps by her audience. She didn't comment though, only turning back to the door and knocking with a rap of knuckles in a display that seemed resigned, bespeaking numerous prior attempts.

"Al, please. Open the door. We just want to make sure you're okay."

No answer. There wasn't even the faintest whisper of a reply. Grettle sighed heavily, rapping her knuckles again. "Al?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Rhali grumbled. Without ceremony, she pushed her way through the mass of idling Hufflepuffs. Muted cries and exclamation of "what are you doing here?" met her passage but she didn't spare them a moment of her time. I slipped hastily into the channel she created, like a parting of the Red Sea, with Ozzy right on my heels.

Stepping up to the door, Rhali very nearly barged Grettle out of the way. Her own knock was far more demanding and positively forbade being ignored. "Albus Potter, you open up this door right now or I swear, by Merlin, I'll blast it open myself."

She didn't speak loudly, but Rhali's voice was certainly forceful. I was sure there would be quite a few rumours from spooked Hufflepuffs tomorrow about the ferocity of the toothpick of a Slytherin with the crazy hair. I sincerely doubted she'd care. She certainly looked uncaring of external opinions as, when no reply arose, she banged once more on the door. "Al?!"

Still no reply. I edged up to her side, frowning in mounting concern. What if he was having a panic attack? Did he need support through them? I'd never been on the supporting end of such an occurrence before, for Al or anyone else, but I got the impression that a little help couldn't go astray. What if he was having an attack and wasn't in the right frame of mind to even open the door?

Evidently Rhali was thinking the same thing. Shaking her head decisively, she took a wide step backwards, slipped her wand from her pocket and aimed it at the door.

"Unlock, Rhali, unlock -!"

Ozzy's attempts at urging moderation from the Slytherin girl proved fruitless. In a splintering explosion of fragmented wood, of spraying sawdust and the cracking of timer, the oaken door caved inwards. The Hufflepuffs loosed a communal cry, and I didn't need to glance behind myself to know they'd scattered away from the dorm. Grettle looked on the verge of fleeing herself.

Neither Rhali, Ozzy nor I paid them any attention. As I was right beside Rhali, I managed to hasten through the door first. It took a bit of a step to clamber over the broken base of the door, but I made short work of it. And stuttered to a stop as I entered the room.

The dorm was quiet. Too quiet. At first, I didn't see Al anywhere. The smell, though… I would identify the smell of Harproot anywhere.

My eyes scanned the beds – four beds in varying degrees of disorder, each draped in the pervasive colours of yellow and black – and it was only the very distinctive shapes of the mottled Harproot in a pot on the floor and Caesar's cage, parrot huddled atop it, that indicated with was Al's. Then I saw Al – Al, lying with half rolled towards me on his bed – and every thought abruptly fled from my mind.

I must have Apparated across the room. Impossible as it was, I must have. One moment I was by the door, the next I was collapsing half atop the bed and half at its side, hands clutching at Al's shoulders. My mind was racing frantically, my eyes peeled wide enough that they threatened to fall from my head. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. "Al? Al!"

He was lying on the bed atop the blankets. Lying as though sleeping, but no one looked like that in simple sleep. There was a limpness to him that even weariness could not assume. He was dressed for school down to the shoes still on his feet, and each article of clothing was mussed as though he'd dragged himself across the floor. But it wasn't that which stood out.

Paleness didn't even begin to describe it. Al went far beyond that. His skin was so pale it was more blue than white. His eyelids had taken on a strange purplish tinge that matched faintly parted lips. But worst of all, worst…

"He's… he's not breathing. Is he breathing? H-he, he doesn't look like he's breathing!"

Rhali. Rhali was panicking. Rhali, the stoic, hard-hearted witch with barely a bone of sympathy in her body. She was in near hysterics. I couldn't spare her a glance, not to look away from Al, from the prone boy lying for all appearances dead on the bed, but I knew the aggressive Rhali was gone. Not that I cared.

I was frozen in a state of horrified shock. Not… breathing? No, he… Al, he didn't look to be breathing. I had to check. I needed to check. I… I couldn't move, but I needed to check –

"Oh my God. Oh my God, I have to get Longbottom." Grettle had followed us into the room. Followed, and departed just as quickly, the sharp smack of her shoes on the floor disappearing rapidly into echoing distance. I didn't glance after her as she left. I was stunned into horrified shock. I had to check, I had to check, but -

Ozzy was beside the bed before I could shake myself from my terrified stupor. His movements were trembling, his hands shaking as he reached on hand towards Al's chin, cupping his dark fingers around the side of his neck. We waited, stilled and petrified. I didn't think I breathed myself.

"He's…" Ozzy took a cracking gasp of breath. "He's got a pulse, he…"

The words finally wrenched me from my immobility. I lurched across the bed, the hands grasping Al's shoulders once more and shaking, squeezing as I leant over him. "Al! Al, wake up. Come on, can you hear me? Wake up, please, wake up!"

"What's happening? Oh God, what's happening? Why is this… what's… I don't understand…" Rhali had begun a stumbling murmur of chants behind us. I barely heard her.

"H-hospital Wing. We have to get him to the Hospital Wing," Ozzy gasped. He sounded almost as terrified as I felt.

I sensed more than saw his eyes turn towards me. It took an almost insurmountable effort to glance towards him. The fear in his eyes… it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. And suddenly, unhinged and terrified as I was myself, I felt determination lock its teeth into me. Ozzy, Rhali and myself; we were Al's friends, he was my boyfriend, and dammit, I weren't so useless as to sit there and do nothing!

I didn't pause to even cast a Lightening Charm before I rose to my feet and slung Al into my arms. I doubt I would have had the stability of mind to do so had I been able to fumble my wand from my pocket. This situation, I'd never encountered anything like it before. Magic just felt utterly beyond me.

My feet were moving without direction. In an instant I was through the door and scrambling from the Hufflepuff common room. The sounds of Ozzy's frantically gasping breaths, of Rhali's terrified chants, followed me all the way to the Hospital Wing.

Master Pomfrey took one look at me as I entered and flowed into action. He had his mother's gift for nursing, everyone says, but I'd say he went above and beyond. I'd never met his predecessor, but the school nurse was blessedly good.

With detached professionalism, he directed me to place Al on the nearest bed. I was panting, though from exertion or sheer terror I don't know. As such it was good that Pomfrey kept his directions short and clear. As soon as I settled Al's limp form onto the bed, he'd nudged me from the way and immediately jumped into casting an intricate array of spells over the bed.

"What happened?"

I didn't know. I had no idea exactly what happened, what precisely had made Al like he was. What had turned him into a fucking corpse. So I told Pomfrey everything. About the whispers about our trip to Hogsmeade, about the Prophet, about how Al sometimes freaked out.

About the Harproot that was still burning in the dormitory.

Pomprey didn't judge. He didn't even say a word at my mention of the Harproot, though he did spare me a worried, sidelong frown, his heavy brows drawn low, before turning his attention back to his spells. Ozzy tried to help, filling Pomfrey in on Al's anxiety disorder that I was rapidly coming to the conclusion were far more extreme than I'd ever considered. Rhali was… Rhali was inconsolable. Huddling behind us and shaking with visible trembles, she didn't seem capable of contributing.

It took a few minutes, a few precious, terrifying minutes after the explanation in which Pomfrey worked with his dark head bowed over Al and muttering charms. I watched Al's pale face, the distinct lack of change, the absence of movement from his chest.

He wasn't breathing.

Why wasn't he breathing?

The Harproot, it didn't do that, did it? It didn't just stop someone from fucking breathing!

Rhali started sobbing. Her sniffles were the only sound contesting with the nearly inaudible mutters of Pomfrey.

And we waited. I could have sworn I barely breathed myself in that time.

Finally, though, finally there was a stuttering gasp and Al sucked in a breath. I nearly collapsed on the floor beside his bed then and there. I managed to retain my footing, but only just. My knees trembled something fierce. Rhali wasn't so fortunate, sinking in a fluid slump to the floor with one exceptionally loud sob. Ozzy nearly followed her only catching himself by grasping onto the flimsy nightstand.

Pomfrey released a gushing breath of his own. It was only in that moment that I realised, truly realised, how fucking close we'd been. That Al had nearly…

"He's alright. He'll be alright." Pomfrey nodded his head to each of us in turn, offering brief reassurance. His smile was wan, however, more of a grimace. "He'll be alright."

My heart felt like it was going to thump out of my chest. It thudded painfully, striking my ribcage in incessant demands. Of what, I knew not. It was a struggle to moderate my own breathing. "What…?" I choked out, and had to swallow to force out more than a croak. "What happened to him?"

"That remains to be seen, Mr Malfoy." Pomfrey frowned worriedly at Al's prone form, lying limp and immobile on the hospital bed. His eyes visibly followed the uneven rise and fall of his chest and he looked on the verge of leaning back over him once more. "I will have to run some more tests. While I do so, I would ask you to go –"

"We're not leaving," Ozzy broke in, his own voice wavering."

Pomfrey's concerned frown became stern as he lanced towards him. "Mr Ipping, you will do as you are told."

"We can't leave him," I exclaimed with my own demand. It sounded more pleading than anything. Rhali gave a pitiful whimper of agreement from behind me.

My attempt only served to draw Pomfrey's attention to me instead. He certainly was stern; that glare could cut through steel. "You will do as I say also, Mr Malfoy, or I will be forced to remove you from my hospital myself."

I very much believed he would. The objectionable side of me was immediately quelled. I nodded rapidly.

Apparently deeming my response adequate, Pomfrey nodded curtly in turn. "Right. I need to run some diagnostics. You, Mr Malfoy, will alert Professor Longbottom to Mr Potter's situation. Mr Ipping, if you would, please request Mr Potter's family's immediate attendance. Miss Hamphyn…" Pomfrey paused as his attention turned towards Rhali. His lips thinned and he shook his head, disregarding what he had been about to say. I couldn't blame him. A brief glance in Rhali's direction showed she looked nearly as pale as Al and about to faint herself. "Miss Hamphyn, you may either take a seat outside the Hospital Wing or take yourself back to your dormitory. The decision is up to you."

We nodded. All three of us in unison took one long, final look at Al before turning to leave. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I was practically walking backwards out the door for how frequently I cast a glance back over my shoulder. Al looked incredibly weak and fragile upon that bed. Even knowing Pomfrey was there to look after him, and would be able to far more capably than me, I felt a rising fear that he would suddenly stop breathing again.

As soon as we stepped into the corridor I broke into a run. I had to get Longbottom, yes, but I'd be back as soon as humanly possible.