What just happened? That's all Church could think of as he lay on the ground propped up on one arm. His head hurt horribly, it must have hit the floor in the fall. Okay, think. What did happen? There was yelling, lots of it. Harcroft had shouted something to Sellaphix... Because Sellaphix had said something about Tumble. Then... Tumble had kicked Sellaphix. But the chaos that followed, Church couldn't even imagine. The last thing he recalled was something, or more likely someone, colliding with him, the unexpected contact knocked him to the ground. After that someone must have pulled them off of him. And whatever happened must have escalated pretty heavily, as now Church could see two teachers amongst the cluster.

Shakily Church got to to his feet, straightening his glasses while one hand held the side of his head. He felt dizzy. Knees buckling, he found himself collapsing onto the nearby bench. Lazily he eyed the group. Almost everyone seemed to be nursing one injury or the other Church grimaced at the sight of Sellaphix, recognizing a broken nose when he saw it. Bevans, it seemed, was dealing with something of his own, though Church couldn't say what. Still, it must have been something to cause him to get sick like that.

Damn, this was a mess. He hadn't expected something like this to have happened. Actually, truth be told, if he had any idea that a fight was going to break out he would have taken a lot more time before attempting to intervene. Not to say he condoned the actions, but sometimes it was better to let people get it out of their system.

Not to mention he wasn't exactly fond of concussions, regardless of how minor they may be.

The leap onto the Head Boy had been more successful and gratifying than Mairead had expected.  Granted, being a rather small girl amongst five boys back home, she'd learned pretty early how to throw her weight around to her advantage.  Still oblivious to the cause of the ruckus, Mairead managed to get a few more good blows in before something grasped her from behind and pulled her off. 

Mairead felt the restriction from behind and reacted first, before thinking.  Mairead twisted around in the grasp and kicked out at whoever had taken hold of her.  It wasn't until after she'd reacted and the sixth year had spoken that Mairead realized it was their own prefect who'd grabbed her.  "Let me go!" Mairead demanded, twisting free from his grasp.  Of course, Mairead could have been standing on a patch of peat in a rain-drenched bog for all the good her legs would do her.  They jiggled and quivered underneath her and she had to hop from foot to foot to stay upright as she made her way to the closest spot on the Gryffindor bench. 

Professors had intervened.  The majority of the quarrel was fading away.  Which meant, it had gotten boring.  Her legs were still fidgeting awkwardly but Mairead pivoted on the bench away from the group.  Maybe, if she acted completely casual and feigning a complete lack of interest in the proceedings. 

Things were still in relative chaos, but things were beginning to get straightened out.  People were starting to head back to their House tables, and Hagrid was splitting up the fight. Josh largely ignored the chaos, except to note that Bevans had thrown up in a pitcher of pumpkin juice. "Scourgify" he muttered, pointing at the pitcher. "Someone should probably get the healer, it looks like Bevans isn't well. Plus, I think he has an injured leg. I think Fig's nose is broken, I don't know about anyone else." Josh said to Professor Hagrid. Then he felt an impact in his legs. Mairead had kicked him. "You didn't need to kick me! I just wanted to stop you punching the Head Boy anymore." He said quietly to her.

Sophie watched the scene around her through distant eyes, as though it wasn't really happening to her but rather she was seeing it through a Pensive. It was as though she were so far out of her body she couldn't even feel Cassie touch her, hear Figaro complaining she broke his nose. She made the terrible mistake of letting her eyes fall on Nicky as he...removed the fork from his calf and then promptly lost his dinner. Maybe it was the random knee to the face, maybe she had struck her head too hard on the table, whatever it was Sophie could feel her legs buckling under her. She dug her nails into Cass' uniform and looked up at their towering professors, "I broke Fig's face because he decided it was a good idea to tell everyone about Zel's attack scars...and now I need to vomit," which she promptly did all over Josh's shoes.

"Peas...why is it always peas? I don't even like peas Cass," her voice was weak as she clutched her stomach, brown hair falling into her eyes. If she had had her wits about her she'd have absolutely died of mortification, with her fuzzy brain she could only imagine on the outer reaches that this meant the Headmaster would disband SAWS, he'd probably expel her... but breaking that smarmy little bastards nose had been worth it... maybe. All the stress she'd been ignoring since long before coming back to school had flooded her system, the feeling completely abandoned by Ollie, the not being able to protect her friend from the slings and arrows, the stigma of being different; and now because she'd told him it would make things easier Zel was going to go through the same thing. All the ways she had failed she felt throughout the whole of her tiny body, and despite leaning against her cousin she soon found herself in a heap on the floor dry heaving (having already emptied her stomach onto Josh).

"Vad fan!" 

Ylva Maras' normal decorum escaped her as the little spat among the Hogwarts students suddenly exploded into anarchaic fury.  What little monstars!  She was apalled to see not only did they resort of physical violence, but that it was all with their fists and feet?  Didn't these little hoodlums even have the decency to fight properly with wands and spells?

She rose up from her chair as did many of her colleagues.  Two wizards from Hogwarts had already rushed down to sort it out and were doing a proper job of it.

Professor Maras could only scowl on in abject disapproval.  How humiliating for Hogwarts - their students didn't even fight with magic.  She had to presume that the stress of the Tournament was too much for them to handle.

As an apple landed and rolled at the back of his mane, Hagrid only reached back to scratch his mat of hair at the sudden itch that plagued the back of his large skull. With a headache and a hopeless sigh he looked from one exclamation and one bloody or green-faced student to the next. With all the uninvolved students sitting down now, the carnage of the brawl was easier to notice.

One Flickwick was in a dramatic panic that ended with her attending to another Flickwick, and then another Gryffindor puked in a pitched of pumpkin juice. Then Figgy piped up:

• "My nose is brog," he reported.  "I fing is brog."

"Yeah," the giant professor nodded as his lips pressed into a pitiful cringe, "It is."

The statement was followed by the curdling scream of a land-stranded merperson! Hagrid's fuzzy eyebrows rose on his head as he turned to face the perpetrator of the noise--a fishy looking  girl with webbed fingers.

• "My feet hurt."

Rubeus' beetle black eyes fell on the girl's shoes, looking quite normal on the outside. Maybe someone threw another hex? He nodded at the young witch and then turned to face Harcroft who made a passing assessment of the situation while wrenching a leg-wiggling little Gryffindor off of the Head Boy--who wasn't involved in this fight?

• "Someone should probably get the healer"

"Agreed," Hagrid nodded at Harcroft with a nervous grumble to his voice, "We're all going to need to take a trip to the hospital hut."

Then Sophie finally spoke up:

• "I broke Fig's face because he decided it was a good idea to tell everyone about Zel's attack scars...and now I need to vomit,"

Hagrid didn't even bother trying to interpret that statement, his head bowed and shoulders arched back as he looked at Trumble, on the verge of tears. It reminded him a lot of Remus Lupin, at least this boy was still at school and still had a chance to live a normal life. And he seemed to have plenty of friends! (Otherwise there may never have been a brawl.)

Hagrid then raised his head to look at all all those wounded and ill and spoke with a gentle and heavy tone, "Well least no one's goin' ta' have any new ones," at least not physical ones. "Let's get 'em all healed up enough, yeah Sandusky?" He nodded to the Hufflepuff's Head of House as he looked back around to the other students involved.

"Right so who has an awful headache, can't stand straight, an' can't see straight?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic box filled with some chewable Pixie Stix, "I got some Pixie Stix left."

"Anyone fit enough to walk will walk to the Hospital Hut,"  Leopold said, his voice returned to it's normal volume.  "Once everyone is taken care of, we will try and figure out what happened here and who caused it."  He didn't seem angry, but rather disappointed.  "If you were involved but are not hurt, please help those of your classmates who have been hurt.  If you cannot walk, have a seat and we'll make sure you get taken care of."  Hagrid was likely capable of carrying half of the students that had been involved in the fracas.  Hopefully he wouldn't have to.

With a quick wave of his wand, Leopold conjured a stack of gauze pads, wishing that he had more effective first aid available.  "Anyone who is bleeding, grab one and press it against your wound," he commanded.  "They'll last long enough to get you all to the Infirmary."

He watched as the teachers took care of the violence and settled everything down. Zel felt an obligation to help out the people who had gotten hurt in the brawl. Even though a part of him wanted to blame Figaro and Sophie for all of this, he mostly blamed himself. Although Figaro’s bleeding looked horrifying, he looked like he would be able to walk around without any difficulties. Sophie, on the other hand—she didn’t look too good. In fact, it looked to him like she was going to pass out at any minute. “I-I’m going to go help her out.” He told Raine as he motioned towards the other 6th year Gryffindor. Zel felt guilty for telling Sophie that she was not to be trusted, but part of him still kind of felt that way. It didn’t mean he had to be cruel to her. After all, s he had helped him out during a time of need—and it ended up hurting her.

“Maybe you can help carry people too?” Zel gave Raine a weak, forced smile and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He wanted to talk to Raine and perhaps Maurice about this entire ordeal, he wanted to ask her for forgiveness since he hadn’t told her about his condition. His nose crinkled up when he saw Sophie puke on Josh’s shoes, and he decided that yes—he definitely needed to intervene. Her cousin was helping, but Zel wasn’t sure how much Cassie could do besides provide good moral support. Without a word, he walked over to the tiny brunette and bent over to rub her back in what he hoped was a comforting way. Dry heaving—it wasn’t fun.

The werewolf waited until he thought she was finished retching to swoop her up into his arms.[1] As gently as he could- to avoid upsetting her stomach further-- he placed her on his left shoulder. She was just light enough that her weight wouldn’t be a huge burden, and he could fairly easily walk over to the hospital hut to get her taken care of. He glanced at Fig and gave his roommate an apologetic nod. He wasn't going to forgive the fellow Hufflepuff anytime soon, but now was not the time for grudges.

1.	With SJ's permission

With directions from his head of House, Figaro complied dutifully.  He grabbed a handful of gauze,  and covered his throbbing tender face with it.  He carefully, but quickly slipped between the people gathered between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, and headed for the exit with a pretty obvious skulk.

They were all in serious doo-doo, and he felt like a galloping idiot.  The tense chatter was picking up in the hall again, and he just wanted to be done with it.  He'd lasted a whole month with Zel's secret.  How could he have blown it so royally? Despite what he'd shouted during the fight, he had actually wanted to be a mate to Zel and not ruin his life.  He'd just... forgot.  Like an idiot, he'd just said what he was thinking without a second thought. 

The students of Hufflepuff had not yet got a taste of what Sandusky was like pissed off - nor the new Headmaster Ried.  Figaro had been in his share of trouble before, but nothing like this.  Not an all out fight, and during the Tournament no less.  Serious doo-doo.

He could walk on his own, certainly, but he didn't want to malinger around and play nurse.  He just wanted his nose fixed and then to disappear into a Vanishing Cabinet.  He still couldn't believe that Sophie had broken his nose!

Raine stood next to Zel, not quite defensively but warily as people began divulging their injuries to Sandusky and Hagrid. Her nose crinkled up when Sophie got sick on her Harcroft's shoes.  No single person could be held accountable; she felt that anyone who received or gave injury was liable for perpetuating the brawl-- but the faculty were correct in saying that this wasn't the time or place for blame.

The prefect shrugged as the Head of Hufflepuff began ordering people about and she looked at Zel, focusing on the apparent bruise he now brandished. "I wouldn't heal that if I were you," she smirked, indicating the jaw. "It might keep the pests at bay." As far as she was concerned, Trumble could use with a rougher exterior. "I have to help mend the others now, you should sit down. Or help. Ignore the stares."

With a fleeting, vaguely reassuring smile, Raine shifted away from him and began to help some of the younger Hufflepuffs up from the floor. Sixth years would already knew how to heal minor damage[1] but the curses were beyond her ability.

"Cuts, gashes, broken noses, over here," she called out in a dull, prefectorial tone. Figaro was just walking by, bloody gauze and all: "Sellaphix, that means you t--" the Hufflepuff waved her off abruptly.[2]

Raine raised a fiery eyebrow at his retreating back but she could hardly call him out. He hadn't been on the good end of Sophie's loudness today, after all. The Gryffindor glanced back to the table and took out her wand with a suppressed sigh. She didn't mind a good fight but having to clean up after one wasn't very pleasant.

1.	Episkey, canon spell.
2.	Approved by Sarah.

Ligeia was insubstantial to the to proceedings where suddenly the anger at Fig's blabbing sparked into a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff war. Heavens to Helena, what a mess! She hadn't done a thing, just stood there with a mixture of shock and fury. And then Professors Hagrid and Sandusky where on the scene and there were the sick and injured to attend to.

Ligeia did have a prefect's badge after all.

Her glower had yet to fade, turning the Ravenclaw as stony as she looked, like a marble statute. Figaro was lucky Raine was trying to attend to his nose first. Ligeia might have caved in his face with the force of her Episkey.

Instead she found Nicholas since Zel was dragging Sofie off. Even his upchucking into a pitcher of pumpkin juice wasn't cheering her up. "Here," she ran her hand through her sewing kit for the odd leftover sweet, finding and ripping the cure end of a Puking Pastille. "Have a lick of this, Bevans, or you're never going to keep one of Hagrid's Pixie Sticks down until Madam Nadge can keep the stomach juices inside you. They're made from real Pixies after all."

Nicholas would have said something to Josh for the "Bevans isn't well" comment, but as he was still dry heaving and he didn't care to be in anymore trouble, he decided to get the other Gryffindor back later.  Seeing the better half of a puking pastille held out to him by Ligeia, he took it, needing no real prompting at that point.  "Thanks," he managed to say before he pushed it into his mouth and swallowed before his stomach could continue trying to escape his body.

As the pastille worked its magic, he stood, and  gritting his teeth he prepared to take a step.  Nicholas was met by a sharp pain in his calf where he had pulled the fork out, a pain that brought tears to his eyes.  Figuring he probably needed support to be able to walk, his first thought was to ask Ligeia for help, but decided that her version of help and his might not be the same, and he didn't care to be her next experiment.  Then he thought of a crutch like he'd had the time he broke his leg when he was ten, before he had even known he was a wizard, but a crutch like that was beyond his ability to conjure.  He picked up his wand from where it had fallen on the table, something he recognized he would have to work on, dropping wands during a fight, even a physical one, was not acceptable.  Knowing he could conjure a stick, he waved his wand and a stick that was part crutch appeared in his hand.

Placing the stick under his armpit, he began to make his way out of the Great Hall, grimacing with each step as it felt like he was being stabbed over and over again.  Looking ahead and seeing Zel carrying Sophie, he wondered who it was more awkward for, though Nicholas couldn't help but enjoy that someone other than Deus had swept Sophie off her feet.

Deus double-checked his sheet and sighed. "So ye did, lass—" He shoved a rather impressive pile of galleons her way, precisely because his favors were so valuable. Plus, he had a reputation to keep as an honest—honest as he ever was—bookie. People didn't hand over their money if they didn't think you'd pay out. He filed Gracie's newer bets away, coins disappearing and a sparkle in his eyes.

"Okay cats, Sandusky-Hagrid Exacta[1]  payout's three galleons, fourteen sickles and nine knuts—nae Moblin, ye 'ad Storm, nae Sandusky—seven sickles, one knut fer someone pukin'—" Deus suddenly winced as he heard someone else wretch, and saw the evidence over the Gryffindor Prefect's robes. "—correction, two people pukin', ups the payout to…" He did a quick bit of mental math, "One galleon, three sickles even."

"Eh? Someone got stabbed by a fork?" Deus craned his neck with a 'huh', and consulted his bookie parchment—which, to prying eyes, appeared only to have a rather anatomically creative depiction of Rowena Ravenclaw dancing a jig with Salazar Slytherin—"Nae, ain't a soul with fork-stabbin'. No payout." It appeared to have been done by the rather delightfully fishy girl he'd met the past summer. Knew he liked her. Bit batty, though.

Now that the brawl was over, Deus quickly handed out House bets. Six Hufflepuffs—who'd have thought sweet little Cassie'd throw herself in?—five Gryffindors (although Raine had admittedly managed to remain somewhat in a control position, rather than chaotic), two Ravies and a Slytherin.

He beamed in pride. The only Slytherin involved in the brawl was their prefect. Let the snakes slither on, he thought fondly. Good boy, Huck. He was also the only one to get nailed in the nether bits, from all appearances. Which, incidentally, also had a fairly low payout. For some reason, people'd expected it.

"Aye Fig's nose is smashed, nae Ah ain't payin' out yet. Nae until we know if the rib's broke, too. Openin' up th' windows on point deductions and punishments."

The furious exchange of coins and notes began again, and Deus tipped a silent hat to Zel and Fig. He owed those boys a butterbeer for the sudden, hefty increase in his disposable income. He also owed them each a black eye, for reasons directly relating to one Sophie Flickwick, but that was a different matter.

1.	In horse racing, an exacta is where you pick two horses and say Horse A will win, Horse B will place (2nd). An exacta box costs more, but covers you—you pick horse A and horse B to win and place, but they can be in either order.

The heavy weight of the gold just a cold comfort, Gracie scowled as she watched the situation wind down into something resembling order. Although Professors Hagrid and Sandusky seemed to have things well in hand now (aided, of course, by the successful efforts of Almasy and the not-so-successful ones of Church and Harcroft), that knot of tension in her gut had hardly lessened one bit. The whole thing was a right mess; a lot more people had gotten hurt than there should have been.

Drama. Who the hell needed it?

“I should have betted on fainting and tears, too,” Gracie muttered under her breath. A bit cold of her, maybe, but whatever. The whole thing was bloody regretful, but there was nothing more to do about it, really—ass had been handed on a silver platter, and as far as she could see there was worse still to come. Sellaphix, Flickwick, Harcroft and Bevans… the whole lot of them were SAWS, weren’t they? Regardless of the fact that it hadn’t been under official capacity, Gracie couldn’t see their conservative Headmaster taking to the incident kindly. At all. Judging from the looks shot from the Head Table—ranging from disapproval to outrage to consternation—the fact that the incident had taken place right before the visiting professors’ eyes was just icing on the cauldron cake.

She suppressed the urge to clap slowly, with a humorless grin. Well done, Hogwarts, esteemed prefects et all. Well done.

Her head tipped back as she tugged his sleeve gently, “Catch you later about my winnings,” she murmured to Deus, glancing at the crowd briefly. They were all still caught up in the finger-pointing, looked like. “Now, though…”

Expression inscrutable, Gracie slipped away, just one more uniform as she sidled towards them. Green eyes raked over the bunch of them indifferently, noting who left and who lingered; once she spotted the one she was looking for, the girl stayed by his side, clearly intent on haranguing his arse with wordless, pointed looks all the way to the Hut.

   

Huck realized where he was and what was going on once the professors started getting involved. Ah, sugar. When the booming shout rang out over the brawl, he had frozen like a panicked deer atop the Hufflepuff table, one knee plunged into a cake and his hand clenched on the face of a seventh year who had been doing his damnedest to rearrange Huck's facial features.

As soon as the chaos outside him stopped, the chaos in his pants started back up again. He shoved the kid away- trying to get his last dig in- and laid down on his back on the table briefly, taking deep breaths to try and ride out the sickening ache.

Rolling over, he managed to squash several dinners before finally reaching the edge of the table and letting his feet touch the floor. What a shit show. Huxley Ward was certainly not the fang on the basilisk, but he generally didn't see himself as being quite this stupid. A special kind of stupid. Hard stupid.

Obediently, he held onto his family jewels and began limping from the hall in the damaged herd heading to the hospital hut.

When he felt Gracie beside him, he managed a subdued but somewhat genuinely amused smirk. "Come to check on the damage to your property?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. "No worries, love, I expect he'll be in working order before the night's up. Not his first rodeo, if you catch my drift."