YEAR 5

Andrew was facing a dragon. Though he had been told to prepare, though he was clad in protective gear, though every bit of information he'd learned was flaring in his mind, he hadn't expected the fear, the pure, unadulterated terror that threatened to consume him. Andrew was facing a dragon, alone.

The plan had been to fight as a team, to throw everything they had at the creature together, and even then Rakepick had warned them that they might not live, that she might not live... and yet here he was, alone. To his left, he could hear Bill frantically scrambling to get Charlie and the others from under the rubble. To his right, there was Rakepick, carrying the weight of the world above her head, countless rocks held aloft by a single 'Arresto Momentum,' ready to crush them the moment she faltered.

Then there was the dragon, a Hungarian Horntail, old, so old, wings torn, and scars, too many to count. There were broken chains wrapped around its hind legs, decrying what must have been an eternity of imprisonment, yet Andrew could spare no pity towards the beast, for it stared at him with more anger than he was capable of feeling.

Andrew had cast the Conjunctivitis Curse, but though hurting, the dragon wasn't blind in the slightest. It swung its spiked tail like a whip, slamming into the stone floor with a thunderous crack, and though it missed, the shock alone was enough to knock Andrew down.

"Mr. Ribeiro!" bellowed Professor Rakepick, though Andrew wasn't sure whether it was a warning or an exclamation.

The chains dragged along the ground with a rattling sound as the Hungarian Horntail returned to its original position. It roared, a terrible, deafening roar that caused the ceiling to cave in even further. Professor Rakepick grunted.

The chains, thought Andrew as he once again stood face to face with the dragon. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he cried; immediately the chains were raised, and when he waved his wand to the side they followed, a sharp tug which caused the beast to trip.

Not pausing to breathe, Andrew released the Levitation Charm and with his wand traced into the air a Z pattern. "Diffindo!"

Professor Flitwick had said the severing charm could cut through anything, but evidently he had meant anything within reason, for Andrew failed to even scratch the creature's thick hide. What now? he thought as the dragon got up, and with what almost seemed like a malicious smile crushed the chains under its claws. That trick would not work again.

More pressingly, Andrew recognised all the signs when the dragon next opened its mouth. Steam coming out of its nostrils, a low, rasping sound filling the air... it was preparing to breathe fire.

'The Hungarian Horntail can shoot fire as far as fifty feet,' he remembered Hagrid saying and almost chuckled. There was much less than fifty feet between him and the dragon.

There was no way he could escape, so he did the only sensible thing.

"Protego!"

The fire came crashing into his shield like a wave, splitting in two at the tip of his wand, and it was all Andrew could do to keep it steady, pointing directly forward. He kept his grip firm, as though holding a sword, and it was a good thing he did, because the wand kept trying to yank his hand in several directions, wavering, spasming, twitching under the pressure. Andrew could feel it, he could feel the power surging within his wand, and with it the distinct sense that it was made for this. Even so, when the dragon finally stopped, Andrew was spent, heaving as though he'd just run from one end of the castle to the other.

Unfortunately, there was no time to rest. The dragon narrowed his eyes at him and huffed, offended that he'd survived, then readied another breath. Andrew knew that using the Shield Charm again would deplete his energy; it was time to change tactics.

What spells did he know that could withstand dragon fire? What spells did he know that could break through that thick hide? There weren't many, but as he turned to Professor Rakepick for help, an idea occurred to him.

"Descendo!"

As the first wisps of flame formed in the dragon's mouth, one of the rocks floating above them abruptly dropped to the ground, beckoned by the whiplike motion of Andrew's wand, hiding the beast from view and blocking most of the fire, though he still recoiled from the heat.

"Clever," said Professor Rakepick, but Andrew wasn't done.

"Depulso!" he cried, and the rock was hurled towards the dragon, who roared in indignation.

Andrew faltered. He hated hurting creatures like this. What would Hagrid say? There was no other way, however. Swallowing hard, he lifted another one of the rocks with the Levitation Charm, intending to toss it at the dragon, but it was prepared this time, and swiped at him with his claws before he could. Andrew and his hastily raised Protego were both sent flying towards the pile of slag his friends were trapped in. As his shield only covered the front, his back and sides took the brunt of the impact. Andrew hissed in pain, thinking he'd heard a crack but too worked up to pinpoint where. Unrelenting, the dragon approached, each step destroying the stone underneath. Andrew pointed his wand at one of the rocks floating above the dragon and bellowed, "Descendo!" but it did little more than make the beast even angrier.

Soon, too soon, the dragon was upon him, opening its maw point blank. Andrew felt the heat long before any fire formed. Panicking, he scanned above him for the largest rock he could find, but they were all too small. Big enough to bury them, but too small to do any kind of damage to the dragon. "Bollocks," he muttered under his breath, feeling his eyes water. The dragon readied its fire, and—

Andrew woke up drenched in sweat, his eyes darting in every direction. His room. He was in his dorm room. In his bed. He'd had a nightmare. His curtains weren't drawn, so he was able to scan the room, but there wasn't much to see since everyone else kept theirs shut, and also, it was dark. Fumbling around for his wand, he discovered that he was still in battle garb. The dragon emblazoned on the metallic chest piece seemed to be staring at him, and he found that he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. Not caring one whit for privacy at the moment, he motioned to get up and strip, but felt a sharp pain in his chest the moment he tried, so sharp it forced him to inhale and grip his sheets, to hold his awkward position for as long as he could in fear of feeling it again, but he couldn't, he didn't have the energy, and soon he fell back onto his bed. His ribs, he realised. Several of them were broken on the right side, from when he'd...

...hissed in pain, thinking he'd heard a crack but too worked up to pinpoint where...

It hurt a little to breathe, too. He should have gone to Madam Pomfrey with the others, with Merula, but Dumbledore had wanted to talk to him and afterwards he was so tired, he'd simply stumbled to the Ravenclaw Tower and into his bed. Someone must have propped his feet up because he didn't remember doing it, and neither did he remember taking off his boots. He stared at his bare feet, thinking it weird that they were so clean despite the fierce battle. Maybe whoever propped them up also cast the Scouring Charm. He chuckled a little at the mental image, but that made the pain flare up, and soon his humour was lost.

Finding his wand, he pointed it at his chest and started the incantation for the healing charm he'd learned from Madam Pomfrey in his second year.

"Andrew, don't!" a voice shouted, and Andrew was so startled he nearly dropped the wand. Recovering quickly, however, he pointed it at the source, wordlessly casting Lumos, and realised that Rowan's curtains were not as closed as he'd thought. He found his friend's sleepy but alert face staring back at him, and blinked.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a little alarmed.

Rowan threw his curtains open. He was in his jammies, his top unbuttoned, probably due to the heat, or so Andrew assumed. The heat was why he hardly ever closed his own curtains, after all.

"Episkey shouldn't be used to heal that sort of injury," Rowan said while reaching for his glasses on the bed stand. He looked different without his glasses. Stronger. Andrew shook his head, wondering why his thoughts were so scattered. "If you heal it wrong, Madam Pomfrey will have trouble later," his friend continued. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital wing?"

"No... No, I just want a shower."

"I'll help you," Rowan said, already tossing his shirt aside. Andrew blushed, but managed a weak nod.

And help he did need. It was impossible for him to take off his gear without one of his ribs poking his lungs, that's what most of the pain was. Rowan started by unbuckling the big chest and shoulder pieces. Andrew could unbuckle the arm pieces himself, but he needed assistance with the legs, because he found he couldn't bend down without immense pain. After taking all the armour off, and glad that Rowan or whoever else had already taken off his boots, he set to take off his shirt, but raising his arms the wrong way quickly proved to hurt as well.

"I guess this is why Madam Pomfrey sometimes uses the Severing Charm on her patient's clothes," Andrew mumbled, turning his head, and only his head, to look at Rowan.

Rowan was, in turn, looking at the dragon emblem on the chest piece.

"Did you guys really... you know, fight a dragon?" he asked.

Andrew found it hard to speak. He managed a brief, jerky nod. He was sure his friend had many questions, but he wasn't ready to answer any of them. Sensing this, Rowan put the chest piece aside and resumed helping him undress, starting with his shirt. There was a slider in the front—a magical zip of sorts, similar to those little plastic bags his dad used to pack his lunch in—which he undid himself, and then Rowan took over.

Next up were his trousers. Andrew briefly considered moving to the bathroom, maybe using a charm to take them off himself, but decided it would be too much trouble when his friend was so willing to help. Besides, even though they hadn't showered together in a while, he still had nothing to hide. Rowan helped him stand, then unceremoniously dropped his trousers and pants with one tug, taking his hand afterwards.

"Can you walk ok?" he asked.

Andrew nodded, stepping out of his pants to prove it, but Rowan led him to the bathroom by hand anyway. His hands were calloused, he noticed. Not from working with the trees like in their first year, but from taking too many notes. The O.W.L.s hadn't been kind on Rowan. Andrew wished his friend would take more time to rest, but after a single day, Rowan had decided to start studying for their N.E.W.T.s. He wondered how that was going, and realised with a bit of a jump that he didn't know. They hadn't spoken a whole lot this year, except when... he swallowed. Except when he needed something. Andrew held on to his hand more tightly, wishing their friendship wasn't wasting away like this. He tried justifying himself in his mind... the Portrait Curse, detention... but in the end, it had been his mistake.

"We haven't hung out much lately," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was Rowan's turn to nod. That had been a touchy subject ever since they'd fought about it in the library.

"I'm sorry, Rowan," he said simply.

"Don't be," said Rowan, busying himself fetching towels and the like once they got to the bathroom. He avoided looking at Andrew. "I saw how happy Penny was when her sister came out the portrait. I know you were doing everything you could to help her."

"That's no excuse," said Andrew. He avoided looking at Rowan too, but for different reasons. He was terrified he would tap into his Legilimency and accidentally read his friend's thoughts. He was terrified of what those thoughts might be.

Rowan took off his own trousers and pants and laid them neatly on a bench before turning to him.

"Look at me, Andrew," he asked. Andrew reluctantly raised his eyes. What else could he do? "I'm never going to stop being your friend. I know how hard this year was on you, and... last night, I thought..." he trailed off. The stoic mask he was wearing cracked, and Andrew found all his fears coming true as he was unwittingly drawn into Rowan's mind.

There, he saw...

Rowan, slamming a book shut in the library. Madam Pince shushed him, but he stared back at her with accusing eyes and stormed out.

Rowan, talking to Professor Flitwick. Andrew couldn't make out the words, but he was the subject, and Rakepick was mentioned. The tiny professor simply shook his head before the memory dissolved.

Rowan, reading a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, inside which was a doodle Andrew recognised. It depicted Merula in a fancy dress with her hair done up, compared to a velociraptor. Andrew couldn't help but giggle. He'd made that in their first year. That was his book.

Perhaps because he'd laughed and alerted Rowan, the next few memories were just brief flashes. Rowan in the courtyard... Rowan trying to talk to Dumbledore... Rowan pacing the great hall... and worry, so much worry, enough to make both their chests heavy.

When he finally managed to pry himself away, Andrew was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed as his own mask cracked.

"Andy?!" Rowan exclaimed, surprised. He didn't know anything about Occlumency or Legilimency, he didn't know his mind had been intruded upon, but his friend was crying, his best friend, so Rowan did the only thing he knew to do, and hugged him.

The hug hurt, but Andrew didn't care. He buried his face in Rowan's chest, repeating apologies like a mantra, and his friend was stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head, trying to get him to calm down, and he felt like he was eleven again but he didn't care, he'd hurt his friend, he'd almost died, he'd almost left him behind, and that hurt more than anything the dragon or Rakepick had done to him.

Rowan moved his hand to the thin of Andrew's back and whispered, "Shhh, shhh... Calm down. Everything's ok. You made it back. It's over."

"It's not over," Andrew protested. "Next year there's gonna be another curse and... and I'm gonna have to, to break the rules and let everyone down again. I don't want to do this anymore, Rowan."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Rowan tried, but before the words even left his mouth they both knew it was a lie. Still, it was a lie Andrew was willing to believe for the moment.

"I don't want to be a Curse-Breaker," he said quietly. It was the first time he admitted it to anyone. "I just want to learn, and do the things other kids do. Do you know why I was so calm about our O.W.L.s? It's because worrying about them seemed pointless, when my brother was still missing and Penny's sister was trapped in a portrait. I just couldn't bring myself to care too much."

There was a moment of silence as Rowan digested that information. Andrew knew what he must be thinking, even without using Legilimency. For years now, everyone had pegged him for a Curse-Breaker. It was the most obvious choice for his career, and he had the grades for it. During his career counselling, even Professor Flitwick seemed to treat other options as just that, options, alternatives in case Curse-Breaking didn't work out. No one had bothered to ask him if it was even on the list.

It wasn't that Andrew didn't like solving mysteries and trouncing Dark wizards, he just... he didn't want to spend the rest of his life fighting evil and looking over his shoulder for enemies. He liked healing, he liked teaching, he even liked duelling, but he didn't like putting his life on the line every time.

Still rubbing the thin of Andrew's back, Rowan cleared his throat. Andrew looked up at him, suddenly feeling a little self conscious. They were starkers and hugging and he was crying and blimey, maybe he ought to turn into a dog to make it less awkward, but he didn't know how the Animagus transformation would react to his injuries. He'd have to ask Professor McGonagall later, or maybe Talbott.

Finally, Rowan spoke. "I'm sorry, Andy," he said, and shushed Andrew when he tried to protest. "I had no idea you'd been bottling this up for so long. I always thought it was sort of an adventure to you."

"It was, at first," Andrew admitted. "I mean, the Cursed Ice and the Boggarts, those didn't really kill anyone, not even the Sleepwalking Curse did, and I thought it was my chance to find my brother."

"You did find him," Rowan said.

Andrew smiled, just for a moment. Though he was hurt his brother had left him, again, he was at least glad he still had one.

Rowan squeezed his shoulder companionably. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said.

Andrew felt a little like one of the creatures he cared for with Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn, being washed from top to bottom by another person, but that person was his best friend, and no one was watching anyway. He decided to relax.

Unbeknownst to him, two people were watching. The first was Talbott Winger, who'd awakened to a shout and watched the entire situation unfold.

The second was the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw.