The Founders

Chapter 41

Kyra became gradually aware of light. For a moment, it was less a thought than a feeling; the feeling of warmth and safety. She could sense that golden light was filtering in from somewhere; it was warming her hands lying on covers, and her hair tickling her face.

She sensed movement beside her and felt a cool hand press against her forehead. She wanted to say something, but before she could shape the words, she was pulled back underneath her consciousness like a leaf drifting down a stream.

When she awoke again, the light was much richer and lower now, burning red galaxies against her eyelids. She tried to lift a hand to shield her face, but raising it felt like picking up a sack of water.

Groaning slightly, she tried to roll over and blearily peeled open her eyelids. They felt crusted together with salt and the light momentarily blinded them. When colours came back into focus, she slowly raised herself on one elbow and looked around her.

She was lying on a comfortable bed with a mahogany bed frame and a deep blue coverlet folded neatly at the bottom. A large gothic window was directly behind her, through which late afternoon light was beaming and glancing off reflective surfaces in the room. A bathroom door was to the right of her, slightly ajar. As she looked over to her left, she tensed immediately, and her muscles screamed in protest.

Alexander sat in an armchair, dozing, at the far end of the room, as far away from her as physically possible within the confines of the room.

He looked exhausted, his shirt crumpled and his dark hair falling over his forehead as he leaned forward. She could see a few hairs curling against the nape of his neck.

He opened his eyes and raised his head suddenly, his green eyes alert. Meeting her gaze, his eyes widened and he held up his palms, slowly raising himself out of his chair as if trying not to spook an animal.

She shrank back against the headboard, pulling her knees and covers up. "What am I doing here?" she asked in a low voice; it was rough and cracked.

Seeing her discomfort, he stopped and sat on the bed beside hers instead, a few feet away, his gaze now level with hers. He hesitated. "I found you. In the library. You'd collapsed and were completely unconscious," he said, his voice shaking almost imperceptibly. He glanced down and met her gaze again. "I brought you here. I didn't think you'd want Madame Pomphrey knowing that you were in the restricted section at three in the morning."

The corner of her mouth raised a tiny bit and she shook her head. "That would be an awkward conversation," she murmured. "But how did you know that I was there?" she asked sharply, pulling herself back again.

To her surprise, he looked down awkwardly at his wand resting on his knee, tapping it. "I-um". He quirked his mouth ironically, and shook his head, before clearing his throat awkwardly. "You know that day outside the hospital wing?"

Kyra nodded.

"You pushed me against the wall," he explained, and Kyra tried not to blush. "I- I put a charm on you then."

She looked at him incredulously, and he held his hands up again, saying pleadingly, "It's not what you think, I promise. It was just a - almost a panic alarm. If your panic and adrenaline levels ever got past a certain point," he glanced at her again, trying to parse her reaction, "then I would know," he finished.

She shook her head wordlessly, bewildered. "So, you put a panic alarm on me?" she repeated. "Why?"

He avoided her gaze and shrugged a shoulder. "You'd told me that someone had almost killed you. I didn't want to just do nothing- it could've happened again." He looked at her intently. "It did happen again."

She fiddled uncomfortably with the covers over her knees, unsure of how to react. Finally, she murmured, "Thanks, then." She shook her head. "So, you're not the one who attacked me. I think. And Nina... Alex, did you give her that shell?"

Alexander nodded his head slowly, watching her reaction. "Sort of, yeah. I mean, I just snuck it into her bag and made it invisible to her."

Kyra shook her head again, still confused. It seemed to be her permanent state, these days. "Why?"

He shrugged. "She's your sister. People around you were obviously getting hurt, and she seemed the most vulnerable of them."

Kyra shifted under the covers, the room feeling very warm. "I still don't trust you. At all," she said fiercely, meeting his eyes. She could feel frustration boiling over. "You know something which could help me figure all this out, but you won't tell me. Even though my sister and my best friend have been tortured and attacked. But you still won't tell me a damn thing."

Her voice shook with barely concealed anger and her hands trembled slightly on her knees. She clenched them together and said more quietly, "I can help. You know I can. Just let me, please." Her voice was pleading. "I can't just do nothing."

He looked back at her, his forearms resting on his thighs and his own hands clenched together; she could see the conflict in his eyes as he wrestled with himself as for what to do. "I know that you're right," he finally replied in a low voice. "You deserve to know. And God knows I've done a rubbish job dealing with it by myself," he said as he ran a hand through his hair with a bitter laugh.

Kyra said nothing, only watched him steadily. Running another hand through his hair, he continued. "What I'm about to tell you is- it's old. About a millennium. It's a part of the story of the founders of Hogwarts which extremely few people are aware of."