The Broombox Spire

Chapter 4: Hospital Wings

"Expelliarmus!"

A flash of light rocketed forward from Jean Corrin's wand.

"Protego!"

A brilliant bubble blipped in front of Lenaiah Bristlehuff, intercepting Jean's spell and nullifying it within a sparkling pop.

Jean stepped forward and flicked her wand twice, wordlessly releasing two bolts of red stunning spells. Those, too, were enveloped by Lenaiah's protective bubbles.

Tenebrus looked at his pocket watch— five till six o'clock— and he immediately felt sweat build on his forehead.

I'm never late for anything, Tenebrus panicked, I have a reputation to uphold.

Tenebrus looked to his Dueling Club co-founder: yellow-clad Fiona Toreson. She was snapping her head between the dueling witches and her notebook, prodigiously scribbling notes on parchment. When Tenebrus rose to his feet, she looked him up and down, then brought her attention back to the fight.

"Where are you going?" Fiona asked.

"I have to get out of here," Tenebrus answered quickly. "I have a previous engagement. Can you cover for the rest of tonight?"

Fiona nodded, "of course."

"Thank you!" Tenebrus exclaimed, picking up his books on formal dueling and its legal spells, resting against the side of his chair. "I promise, I will take over a—"

"—are you still here?" Fiona huffed, gritting her teeth as she scribbled a mistake away from her notes.

Tenebrus bit his lip, shrugged, then darted away. When he squeezed through the heavy doors of the dueling hall, the door bounced back harder than Tenebrus anticipated, and he dropped his belongings— loose parchments full of notes fluttering in all directions.

If I don't learn the charm to make all this stuff just levitate next to me this summer, Tenebrus cursed to himself as he fell to his hands and knees, randomly scooping papers into his arms, then I won't even bother coming back to Hogwarts.

Tenebrus laughed at his own thought.

His precariously balanced possessions bundled close to his chest, Tenebrus darted through the corridors. Zipping past the great clock and up the grand staircase — relieved that the steps hadn't arranged themselves to block his was way — he slipped through the concealed entrance and raced up the two flights of stairs within the Broombox Spire.

Checking his clock, Tenebrus pumped his fist in celebration— a minute til six.

Tenebrus was alone in the spire, at no surprise to him. The evening air had grown crisp, but the hot soup Tenebrus had nearly chugged at dinner still was warm in his belly. Through the view of the balcony, the view of Hogwarts' grounds and lake looked warm and friendly — despite the purple light of night settling over.

Besides the gentle breeze that kissed Tenebrus' cheek, everything was quiet and calm.

In the few days since Tenebrus visited the Room of Requirement with Draco, time had passed in a blur. The school was alive with the approaching Gryffindor championship match against Ravenclaw, and even though he usually paid little attention to Quidditch — unless his friends or Draco were involved — Tenebrus was eagerly participating in his house's comradery this time around. Gryffindor had claimed the Quidditch cup five years running: every year Tenebrus had attended Hogwarts. This year, Ravenclaw had yet another chance to take that win streak away— along with Gryffindor's pompous, boastful attitudes. Given the track record, Harry Potter would find a way to steal the show by catching the snitch again, but there was always a chance— that's all that was needed for hope.