A/N: I've neglected you guys :( Sorry!! The majority of my exams are over now, so you'll get some more updates I'm hoping!
Anyway, enjoy! <3
"What did you get for it?"
"Is it true you hit him?"
Al and Scor were sat at the Slytherin common room the next day, chuffed to bits even though they were in the biggest trouble they'd ever been in. The whole school had found out about what had happened after school, and now Al was a bit of a celebrity, now for a much better reason than because of his father.
Scor shushed everyone, and they all leant in to listen like Jesus with his disciples. Even Sylvian was impressed. "Basically, Hillbourne wouldn't help us with the potion. It was clear we couldn't do it, right? So this is our second hard attempt, and we actually tried this time, honest."
Al nodded enthusiastically.
"Hillbourne comes over and tells us it's wrong and that we have to try yet again, and Al flips, throws the cauldron next to us right at Hillbourne and it hits him right here," he said, pointing to his chest. "Then Al tells him to go to hell and we both run away," Scor finished, a triumphant smile on his face. That wasn't quite what happened, Al knew, but Scor changed the story every time and Al just wanted Scorpius to not be so foul a lot of the time, so he allowed him to tell it how he wanted. It was funny how being in so much trouble put him in such a good mood.
The Slytherin table was filled with congratulations and praise, as nobody really liked Hillbourne, so Scor'd really increased in popularity, which was good for him.
However, Al didn't want to even mention what the teachers thought. After a couple of hours of hiding in their dorm, too scared to go outside, the only Professor that could come into Slytherin did, and it was Stanford.
Al had never heard someone shout so loud. Honestly, what he'd done hadn't been that bad, but Stanford had gone on about how Hillbourne could have been seriously hurt, and how they'd run away and how bad that was, and what Al had said. He'd gone harder on Al, for actually pushing that cauldron off the table even though it had not landed anywhere near Hillbourne, but Scor, thankfully, was included too. Al hated getting in trouble on his own. It was only fun when him and Scor could joke afterwards about how when Stanford talked, little bits of spit flew out of his mouth and his moustache quivered.
Their punishments were bad, but Al actually thought they would have been a lot worse. They both had detention for a month, Howlers were being sent home (which Scor was absolutely dreading most of all), and finally, they weren't allowed to take Potions with Hillbourne. This bit of news had delighted them to begin with, but then Stanford told them they still had to take the class, only not with Hillbourne because they 'assaulted' him. Instead they had the other older Potions teacher who taught the 6th and 7th years, and as their timetables and his were full, they now had to do it in their free time which was torture. Their new Professor was nicer than Hillbourne, but he hated having to teach them after school, and as it was only them in a lesson it got quite intense. He was often tired of Al and Scor's less-than-satisfactory Potions knowledge, but it meant they had to concentrate a lot more, and much to his dismay, Al was learning things. It was so frustrating; there were a lot of better spells he could be filling his head with.
Everyone was clapping Al on the back for it, and Scor was a lot happier than he'd been a few days before though, so it really had more positive than negative effects. They'd have to assault more teachers in the future if they were ever in bad moods again.
They wandered out of the Great Hall alone after chatting to the rest of Slytherin about it, and came to a stop outside the staircase. "I'm going to visit Matilda again, if we're allowed. Do you want to come?" He asked, watching Scor's happy expression fall and immediately wishing he hadn't said it and could stick his smile back on. Scor still thought she hated him.
He shook his head, face fixed on the floor. "No," he said simply, not bothering to give a reason. "I'm going back to Slytherin."
That was the final word, apparently. Scorpius walked away, by himself, leaving Al in the long hallway looking up at the long flight of stairs ahead. Oh well. He had guessed Scorpius would take a while to want to apologise again. Matilda might not want to see him right now anyway, he thought, as he set off.
"Hi Al!" He heard a high, chirpy voice behind him. For a second he thought about how Rose sounded a lot like Matilda, but that thought went out of his head when he remembered that he didn't really want to talk to her.
He turned around to face her, watching her smile and bounce up towards him, hoping she wasn't about to accompany him around the castle. "Where are you going?" She asked, flipping back her ginger hair. Al scowled. After going to Hogwarts and befriending her family's enemy, he'd realised sometimes it was allowed to not like your family as much as your friends, because you didn't get to choose who you were stuck with.
He didn't dislike his entire family, though. He loved James and his parents, and Victoire and all his cousins and aunts and uncles too. Rose was just annoying.
"Hospital wing," he answered in monotone, starting to walk off, but she just trotted after him, catching up.
"Gryffindor's this way," she told him, walking with him. Al thought about how glad he was that he was in Slytherin. He would have had to be a 'good boy' in Gryffindor, and that would not have been nearly as much fun. "Why are you going to the hospital wing?" She asked.
Al shrugged, wondering how far in his direction Gryffindor was. "Visiting a friend," he said shortly. Rose was still bouncing with each step and it was making him seasick.
"Oh, is that Matilda?" She went on. "I've heard it's really serious. Is she getting better at all?"
Al glanced at the floor where he was walking, suddenly finding it very interesting. "Dunno," he answered quietly, trying to speed his walk up some more, but they were halfway up the stairs and speed walking was getting tiring.
Rose carried on talking about how they 'never spoke anymore' until Al reached a turning that he knew the hospital was at the end of. He wondered why Gryffindor was so close to it, and came to the conclusion that all their rash bravery must land them in hospital fairly often, and that Slytherin didn't need to be near it because they still did brave stuff but they were more sneaky about it.
Rose stopped abruptly at the corner. "I've got to go now," she said, and Al flashed her a smile. He was genuinely pleased that she was leaving.
"Okay, bye," he said swiftly and walked away, ignoring her second farewell call that came after. His feet took him towards the girl he wanted to see so much more than his cousin, and he almost bounced down the hallway towards the hospital. Hopefully Matilda was getting better, and now he could tell her Scor really was upset because now he thought she hated him for saying it, and perhaps that would make her want to forgive him. As much as he wanted Scor to learn a lesson, his two best friends arguing wouldn't be the most enjoyable position to be in once she was back in class.
Pushing open the large wooden door, he wandered in, surveying the room and trying to remember which one Matilda's bed was. Madam Pomfrey came bustling up to him quickly, from the bed of a 5th year boy he recognised from his house that looked just as awful as Matilda did the other day.
"You want to see Matilda, I suppose?" She looked down at him with a strange expression, a disappointment in her eyes. She'd probably heard about the Hillbourne thing.
Al nodded enthusiastically, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "She was taken to St Mungo's last night," she said, giving him her best sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry, but we couldn't treat her when none of her symptoms added up to anything we've seen before. They will run some proper medical tests that we don't have to equipment for, and hopefully they will figure her out. Poor girl," she added.
Al's face fell. She had to leave the school? At first the information seemed to sit on top of his brain without actually entering it, but suddenly he processed what she said and the atmosphere dropped 20 degrees in temperature. It must be awful to know that you're so sick that Hogwarts doesn't have the facilities to help you. He thought of how she'd looked before, pale and small, lying in a strange bed in a strange place with nobody familiar there to look after her. Al prayed her family would be allowed in, even if they were Muggle.
Lost in a sort of trance, Al was shoved closer to the door, as if they wanted him to leave but felt too bad for him, so let him stand there pointlessly. He couldn't help thinking the worst. Would Matilda die? Would they ever see her again? What if she was too ill to ever come back to school, or what if she wasn't ever going to get better, or what if-
"Sorry, Potter. You have to go now."
A soft, elderly female voice coaxed him out of his daze. The windows that had previously been laced with light were darker now, and the artificial lamplight was streaming into the room. Al could feel himself shaking, but he was unable to stop it and he hadn't noticed it before that moment. How long had he been there for, standing around like an idiot?
Madam Pomfrey ushered him outside and closed the large wooden door. He could hear everything inside, but he couldn't quite bring himself to move yet. He would have to face Scorpius, and he hadn't planned what to say, so he just stayed still, listening to the creaks and muffled voices around him.
"How many?" He heard all of a sudden. It was McGonagall, but he couldn't think how she'd got in, considering she hadn't walked past him. Al simply had to listen in, considering his feet were yet to start working again.
"Five more, Professor," Madam Pomfrey said inside. It was a little quiet, but Al could just make the words out.
"All Muggleborn, all Slytherin. I'm starting to think this mysterious illness isn't coincidental."
Al frowned. More like Matilda? Was that what they meant?
"We've sent the first-year to St Mungo's, but I don't see how it will help them by keeping them here," a man, whose voice Al didn't recognise. "We have no idea what or who is causing it," he said.
"Who?"
Al heard a silence fall across the conversation inside, as some footsteps marked the seconds they didn't speak. As Al held his breath, he eventually heard the man speak again, in answer to Madam Pomfrey's recent question. "Just because Voldemort is gone, it does not mean we can ignore the threat of more dark wizards. There will always be an evil, and I am considering some kind of malevolent spell as a possible cause of this disease."
Suddenly, the door opened, and McGonagall peered out, seeing Al immediately and pursing her thin lips. "Potter, you should be back in Gryff-" she started, but stopped herself. "Slytherin. Off you go," she commanded, and Al obeyed. He turned and walked away, thinking about what he would say to Scor and more importantly, how whatever Matilda had was infecting other people, as he slowly diminished alone down a long, dimly candlelit corridor that seemed to drip and snap at him as he walked away.