CHAPTER NINE
She turns, dark wings glinting in the sunlight like an ember, and shoots back through the air faster than the eye can follow. The meat is torn from his hand before he even registers her weight on his arm.
"Not a mouse," Nathaniel mutters behind him, "maybe a worm? Do birds like her eat worms?"
"Sure they do," Arianna says, "indirectly, I suppose. Don't you remember the partridge from last week?"
"...Yeah."
"Partridges eat worms."
"I hope you know I'm only friends with you because Icarus is," Nathaniel says, after an uncomfortable silence.
"Likewise," she sighs, "can we go back in now? It's freezing."
"It's Scotland," Icarus huffs, loosely fastening the hood over Rhiannon's head, "it's always freezing."
"We should leave him," Nathaniel proposes, "go to the kitchens or something. He'll still be here in a couple of hours."
With a flick of his wand, he sets the lure flying across the field to a relatively undisturbed area.
"We'll take her back to Hagrid's after this," he says.
"You said that last time," Arianna reminds him, "and the time before that, and -"
He rolls his eyes and unfastens Rhiannon's hood. She shakes herself, clicking and chattering, before he flicks his wand to send the lure into the air. In an instant, she's gone, shooting across grass – and in the next she's down, a pile of dark and white feathers, her cry of pain ricocheting back to them.
Without a thought, he's sprinting across the grass and sliding to his knees to gather her carefully in his arms -
"What the fuck," Nathaniel blurts, picking up a smooth gray rock, "who -"
Fen's laugh is almost as cold as the air. All three of them freeze, turning slightly in his direction, where he's surrounded by three other students about the same age.
"So sorry," he calls, eyes crinkled with mirth, "I was teaching Meredith here a new spell. Wasn't expecting your bird to get in the way."
"Wasn't expecting -" Arianna gestures to, well, everything, "-we're the only people out here, you pretentious-"
"C'mon," Icarus mutters, fixing the hood over Rhiannon's head as he walks past them, "leave them."
"Leave them?" she splutters, following him anyway, "They can't just -"
"Arianna."
She scowls at him but stops talking. On his other side, Nathaniel's attention is on the stone.
It doesn't take long to reach the staff room, where they find Professor Sprout and Professor Kettleburn chatting by the fireplace. After a quick examination, it's determined the only damage is a clean break to Rhiannon's wing.
"A month or two, I'd say," Professor Kettleburn hums, "horrible accident, yes. Could've been much worse. She's been staying with Hagrid, no?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll take her back down for you once I've got her wing set. The potion's are quite simple, I'll send you a list, of course. And the physical therapy exercises. Can't forget those..."
After a dozen assurances and about twenty apologies, they're shown out of the staff room.
Icarus leans against the cool stone wall of the corridor and sucks in a deep breath. Nathaniel stuffs the stone into his pocket and Arianna studies the two of them, her green eyes curious.
"So?" Nathaniel asks.
"So...what?" Icarus replies, "It was an accident, right? Accidents happen all the time."
…
After a lifetime of migraines, he would've assumed there was a cutoff. That, at a certain point, his brain would release a bunch of endorphins – or whatever muggles called them – and let him go about his day.
He downs a pain-relief remedy in the shadows of an abandoned corridor and closes his eyes to try to convince it to work faster.
So of course, that's when the shouting starts.
"I hate this place," he mutters to absolutely no one in particular, before making his way towards it.
It's a small crowd, really, not usually one he'd be too concerned with except that was his Prefect yelling at -
His brain finally goes quiet, only to be filled with a soft, angry buzzing a second later.
And somehow, Icarus is the first to notice him. Blue eyes widen, hand going to his face to staunch the blood flowing from his nose.
"Just what exactly is going on here?"
Fen whirls on him, perhaps not realizing who'd spoken, and freezes. The color drains from his face. In an instant, the crowd starts to vanish.
"Well?"
"I-" Fen says, "I lost my temper, Professor. It's just – he -"
"It was unprompted, sir," Ada Madani interrupts, stepping out of the shadows, dark eyes narrowed, "we were coming back from the library and he came out of nowhere, blaming Icarus for how shit the past couple of weeks have been."
"No one just gets nettles in their wardrobe," Fen snarls, "or boils from-"
"Miss Madani was talking," Severus purrs, "you will shut up and let her finish."
"There's not much else to say, Professor," she says after a short, startled silence, "Icarus told him to leave him alone and Fen just -" She gestures at Icarus, who's still trying to stem the bleeding from his nose.
Severus nods.
"Take him to the hospital wing," he says, "Liu. My office. Now."
The Prefect follows him to his office in silence, eyes glued on his feet. Even when the door shuts, not a word comes from his mouth.
Severus sits at his desk, reaches over to open the top left drawer and pulls out a scroll.
"Do you know what this is?"
Fen hesitates, before taking the seat across from him.
"No, sir."
"It's the contract you signed when you accepted the position as Prefect," Severus says, unrolling it so the boy can see, "in section two, there's a clause which outlines appropriate disciplinary action for younger students. Do you remember what it says, or do I have to read it to you?"
"I...remember," Fen says, "if a student is caught breaking the rules, they get two warnings then a detention. If they continue, they're to be reported to staff."
"Does it mention anything about corporal punishment?"
"...No."
"So instead of bringing any of your grievances to me," Severus says, "you decided to take matters into your own hands. Do you even have any proof that Mr. Sørensen is responsible for...what, again?"
"It's...I – I don't," Fen says, "but – I hit his bird a couple of weeks ago and all of these...pranks only started after that. Who else could it be?"
"I heard about that incident. I was told it was an accident."
"It – it was."
"Then what reason would he have to prank you?"
Fen picks at his nails.
"So," Severus says, leaning back in his chair, "to sum it up, you've been on the receiving end of various pranks for several weeks and instead of coming to me, or another professor, to figure out what was happening, you concluded that the only person possibly responsible for it was Mr. Sørensen – with no proof – and decided to use physical force to resolve the situation."
The silence stretches on, one heartbeat, then another.
"Give me your badge."
"What?!" Fen shoots up in his seat, alarmed, "Professor, please – my parents -"
"This is not the first time I've had to see you in my office this year," he says, "the last time it was because I found out you've been paying other students to do your work for you. Until you learn how to manage your time and responsibilities, the position will go to someone else. Give me. Your badge."