The Space Boy and The Red Head

20 - Puking Pastilles

Tuesday - 5th March 1996

Things had not been resolved between the group. Although Apollo and Lee had resumed sleeping in their own beds, tension still hung heavy in the air whenever the group shared the space. Words were not spoken at all. George had tried to talk with Apollo a few times when they were alone, but between classes, detention and studying, there wasn't really much time alone anyway. This morning had been the first time someone had spoke to all of the group at once. It had been George.

"Remember full moon tonight, can finally get rid of these leaves" he had said, shocking everyone.

"You aren't seriously still doing that?" Fred asked angrily.

"What did you give up already Fred?" Lee scoffed.

George had been slightly hurt that his brother had given up and not told him.

"Well Fred, guess you'll just have to start again. Lucky I've got spare leaves."  George said, trying to keep things civil, he handed one to Fred, who grumpily put it in his mouth. They'd all gone their separate ways for the day soon after that.

Later that day Apollo had returned from his classes, wanting to lie down before he'd head down to the shack for the night. The pain in his body had driven away his appetite, so he had the whole tower to himself for roughly the next hour. He had tried to take a nap but found sleep eluded him. Rifling through his belongings for something that could distract him he came across the small box he'd forgotten he'd packed. It contained the letter from his birth father, as well as some of items he'd left to him after his death.

Apollo still couldn't bring himself to read the letter addressed to A.S.B. He'd wondered what the initials stood for, guessing the A was for Apollo, but not knowing the rest. Apollo had opened the box and placed the letter to the side. The other contents of the box were something Apollo had seen, but never brought himself to look at, not properly.

A pair of gold rings that were adorned with a crest that Apollo wasn't sure he'd seen before. A well worn children's book with a vaguely familiar story. A silver chain that held a pendant that depicted two stars, the silver chain mildly irritated his skin whenever he picked it up. And finally, a wand. He believed it must have belonged to his father before his death, been the one he'd used himself. Apollo picked it up and looked closely at it. Suddenly feeling more alone than before, as if the wand had sapped some kind of energy from him. Placing everything back inside, he shut the box over and went to leave.

He needed to see one of the twins before tonight's detention. Preferably George but the situation at hand was more important than his ego right now. He'd be able to talk to Fred if it came to it, and try not to get too angry with him.

He saw familiar red hair walking towards Umbridges room from the other end of the corridor. Unfortunately it wasn't the twin he had hoped for.

"Fred, wait!" He called. Running to catch him.

"What Apollo? I'm going to be late" he said back.

"I need a puking pastel. Please, I've got money for it. I just can't be in detention tonight." He practically begged. Fred rolled his eyes, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling one out. Apollo reached to pay for it.

"Put your money away. We might not be talking at the moment but you're still my friend. Don't tell Lee about this though" Fred said, forcibly placing the trick sweet in Apollo's hand. Apollo was incredibly grateful. He walked in silence the rest of the way with Fred to the detention. Everyone sat in their individual seats and as they had many times before, began to write with the black, blood quills. After writing several lines Apollo stuffed the sweet into his mouth.

Almost immediately he could feel the bile rising. He sprinted to the front of the class, ignoring Umbridges shouts to sit back down, heading straight to where a waste bin sat, grabbing it and emptying his stomach of its contents. He vomited
several times more whilst Professor Umbridge whined about how disgraceful the situation was. She went to usher him out the class to the nurse.

"Maybe I should take him to Madam Pomfrey? Make sure he gets there alright" Lee suggested standing up. They left the class, taking the bin with them as the pastel had not yet worn off. Once the door closed Lee turned to face him.

"A puking pastel? Really? I had a plan!" He said exasperated.

"I didn't know that. You haven't spoke to me all day!" Apollo defended. They sprinted up to the infirmary, letting Madam Pomfrey cure his sickness before they'd have to part ways with Lee.

A bad feeling had settled over Apollo as Lee had left. The air in the castle was cold and its bitter touch froze him to the bones. Madam Pomfrey had noticed he wasn't as chipper as usual. She had tried to ask him about it but was met with a deaf ear. Walking in stride with one another they left the school, quickly covering ground over the dewy grass.

"Immobulus!" Madam Pomfrey casted upon the Whomping Willow. Its branch's slowed to a gentle sway instead of their usual thrashing about. Darting between the roots of the tree to the tunnel it concealed, Apollo and the matron walked briskly through, dirt brushing against them where elbows grazed the sides.

Pushing the raggedy door open, Apollo stepped inside. Madam Pomfrey waited in the doorway.

"I shall see you in the morning Mr McLaggen. I do hope tonight isn't too painful" she bid him farewell. Hesitating only to place the restrictive charms on the door.

Apollo had noted on his way in that it was held up by only one rusty hinge. Once Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had quietened to Apollos heightened senses, he paced forward. Grabbing the handle and giving it a hefty yank. The door didn't budge. That eased his nerves ever so slightly.

Apollo, satisfied that the beast would be sufficiently trapped inside, moved to discard his robes in their usual hiding place. He could feel the beginnings of the transformation. He looked out of the a hole in the roof above him. The stars shone like tiny gems on a blue velvet sky. The moon was not in his sight yet, but he could tell it had risen over the horizon.

His skin began to uncomfortably stretch to accommodate the growing muscles underneath. Course hair pushed its way through, stinging as it did. His bones lengthened and snapped, trying to adjust to the body of the werewolf. All the colour had vanished from his vision, as werewolves were even more colourblind than most canines (a fact most textbooks were unaware of). All the while Apollos mind was not racing with anxiety as usual, it wasn't focused solely on the pain. Instead he heard Fred's voice, playing out in his memories.

"We wouldn't be learning how to kill them if they weren't dangerous!" Fred sounded so close, though deep down Apollo knew it was just the memory.

"WEREWOLVES ARE BLOODY MONSTERS!"

That was the last thing Apollos mind had conjured before the beasts mind had taken control. It challenged Apollos sadness, turning it into pure rage and aggression.

Last time the beast had been defeated by the defensive charms. Tonight it wanted out, wanted revenge. Tonight it wanted blood.