The Many Musings of Albus Potter

xxiv. lycanthropes

xxiv. lycanthropes

Albus wakes up to find two other Slytherins dragging him across the floor.

"Fu-"

His eyes widen slowly, half-tired, half-alarmed, to the sight of orange-and-white flames dancing mockingly around him. The adrenaline hits him so fast he jerks out of the other boys' grip, slamming down against the hardwood floor, which smells entirely of ash.

"Potter, up," one of them hisses. He recognises it as Damien Goyle, whose thick hands wrap themselves around his shoulders and pull him upright. He shoves Damien away, sneering.

"What the fuck is going on?" he yells. He can feel the heat licking at the back of his neck.

"No time." George Munroe is pushing both of them forwards. "Go, boys, go."

They make their way down the stairs and into the Slytherin common-room, which is also being emptied of students. Professor Zabini is by the door, one hand aloft and muttering encantations - perhaps spelling the students calm or trying to prevent the carbon monoxide from pooling out and spreading further - while throngs of students rush out of the door.

"I've got him, sir," Munroe says, dragging Albus along by his shirt cuff. "Looks like it started in his room. But he seems fine." Zabini's eyes flicker with relief.

"Heavy sleeper, are you, Potter?" he drawls. Without waiting for Albus to answer, he motions for the boys to leave through the door.

"Yes sir," Munroe says. He drags Albus along the double doors and out to a sea of Slytherins sitting around - blanketed, crying, bleary-eyed - the outside of their House entrance.

"WHAT," Munroe yells, "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ALL DOING HERE? THE HOUSE MASTER HAS MADE IT CLEAR THAT YOU ARE TO GO TO THE GREAT HALL. NOW!"

Munroe has his wand out when he says the last bit. Albus watches as the hysterical population of Slytherin students suddenly stands, erect, and in a rather zombie-like fashion shuffle together in a comically mechanical line towards the Great Hall.

"Did you just use the Imperius curse?" Albus asks, incredulous. Munroe has tucked his wand back into his pyjama pocket, completely poker-faced. Beside them, Damien chuckles and Albus sneers again when he finds that the git has reached out to ruffle his hair in the manner one might an idiotic child.

"Aren't you precious, Potter," he grins delightedly. "Did you use the Imperius-fucking hell, you a Slytherin or what?"

"Damien," Munroe warns stonily. He looks at Albus. "It was either this or risk the fiendfyre coming out and charring the lot of them to dust."

"Fiend-" Albus chokes on the word. "Is that-how did it-"

"Let's go, Potter." Munroe has his hand on his back now. Albus is getting thoroughly sick of this man-handling business. If he were anything like Rose, he'd go barging into McGonagall's office to complain about physical harassment.

He is deposited to the Great Hall without another word. Some of the teachers have set up the dining tables for each of the houses but the students have more or less ignored them and huddle together in mixed groups. Now far away from the heat, Albus shivers as he slides towards an empty space next to a pair of subdued Slytherin girls. He hasn't even got shoes on. The stone floor feels icy against his feet.

Albus listens with his head down as bits and pieces of conversation travel to him through the various mutterings.

"Fire started out of nowhere..."

"Lucky we've got those alarms everywhere now. One good thing the Muggles invented, I suppose..."

"It started in Potter's bedroom. Someone's out to get him obviously..."