Fear (Sequel to Love: ADS)

Chapter 7. Bowtruckles

By the time I got back, there were several empty potion bottles on the table next to Draco, and his pupils were the same size again.

 

“Well, he’s a bit more conscious.” Madam Pomfrey said.

 

“Perhaps we can get to the bottom of this mess, then.” McGonagall said, walking over to the chair in the corner and sitting down. “Hermione said he was talking about being able to ‘see’ magic?”

 

“That’s what she told me, though he’s been fairly quiet since. Only responds to direct questions.”

 

“Well that doesn’t sound like our Draco Malfoy at all.”

 

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” I gave her a small smile, which she returned.

 

“Draco, are you alright?” the Headmistress asked.

 

“I’m… better than before.”

 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

 

“I wanted to see if there was magic in my blood. Like my f-” he stopped abruptly. “Like my parents used to say.”

 

“How could you tell if there was magic in your blood?”

 

“If there was magic I could see it.”

 

“Why would you see it?” she asked.

 

“The visions. The blue light. It was on magic. It was-It should have been-” he stopped again. “Do excuse me, I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

Madam Pomfrey handed him a bucket. “There you are, dear.”

 

The Headmistress turned back to me. “The real question is whether or not he can, in fact, actually see magic, or if he's just, well, a bit out of his mind. And why his reaction is so negative.”

 

Madam Pomfrey joined the conversation, handing another bottle to Draco, who swallowed it with a pitiable look. “Whatever it is, it’s all in his mind, and nothing I have a quick fix for. If he needed a pick me up, or something to calm his nerves, that’s one thing. Depression and anxiety, things like that, even hallucinations, mood disorders, that isn’t so bad once you start treating it. But I don’t know what this is, or what it’s doing to him.”

 

“We should get someone from St. Mungo’s to look at him.” I said.

 

Madam Pomfrey nodded. “I agree, though I’m not sure how much can be done if it isn’t a magical illness, so much as… well, whatever it was that hit him. A curse, perhaps. Unless it can be identified, St. Mungo’s won’t be able to help.”

 

McGonagall nodded somewhat gravely and stood. “Keep him here until a healer from St. Mungo’s can look at him. In the mean time, I’m going to get something to eat. I fear I will have an increasingly shorter time to do so within the coming months.”

 

Madam Pomfrey smiled. “Right you are, there, I’m sure.”

 

“Oh, and Poppy?”

 

Madam Pomfrey turned to look at her.

 

“You’ve got bowtruckles on your chair, thought you might want to know.”

 

~

 

There was no way Draco had seen the bowtruckles on the chair from the bed in the opposite corner of the room. It just wasn’t possible. They were hard enough to spot close up, and it was a wonder the Headmistress saw them at all, but Draco? Impossible.

 

Madam Pomfrey’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “Bowtruckles.” she murmured.

 

Draco looked up from his bucket, offering it to Madam Pomfrey. “Thank you. I’m sorry for vomiting up those first potions.”

 

“Not your fault, dear.” she smiled tightly. She offered him a glass of water.

 

“How did you see the bowtruckles?” I asked.

 

“They glow.” he said. “Or, they glowed.”

 

I looked back at the seat, and I didn’t see any glowing bowtruckles. “They glowed, like your blood?”

 

“No.” his voice was almost inaudible as he looked down at his hands. “Not like my blood.”

 

“What do you mean?”

His voice was hoarse. “My blood didn’t… It didn’t glow.”