[1]Moira was still bleeding, though it had slowed down considerably for being a head wound. The two boys on either side of her was the only reason she was moving at all. Otherwise she'd still be sitting in the shallows of the lake. She was still nauseated and felt like she was going to puke, but somehow their support helped with that.

On the way to the hut she'd had a fit of the giggles, delirious enough from blood loss to find the whole thing funny. She still didn't know what she had hit her head on while they were being pulled along by the tidal wave. It could have been a rock, it could have been a branch, it could have been a shoe. Either way, she had seen the inside of the hospital hut a few too many times for her liking now.

With a small groan she sat where indicated. She didn't like the lights in the hut being on either it seemed, and she was still wet and cold.

1.	Follow up to the DADA 4th years class

"Oh, dear."

Tulojow met the students at the cottage door, holding it open as the two lads helped young McBoid into the main sitting room.  The three of them were shuffled to sit close to the fire in the corner where the heat from the coals would help dry and warm them up.  Without bidding, Pippy the house elf shuffled out from one of the rooms and fetched a couple large, wool blankets from the cupboard.  The elf handed the blankets to Tulojow and shuffled on her way into the kitchen. 

One blanket was unfolded and wrapped around Moira.  She left the spares on one of the cushions for the other youngsters, if they wanted one. 

"Defense?" Tulojow asked, casting a quick glance over towards the clock.  Enough injuries came from Storm's class; it had been easy to figure out his class schedule based on when which years showed up at her door.  "What did he throw at you, this time?"  With a sympathetic smile, the Healer picked up a rag and gestured for Moira to lean her head forward slightly.

Ambrose didn't quite know exactly what Alvis was angry about as they took Moira to Nagde's hut, which still served as the hospital wing for normal day to day stuff. The Gryffindor was quite grumpy too as Storm had soaked them, then Ambrose had been snapped at by Alvis when he was only trying to help, and then Moira had got hurt and Ambrose had been chucked back in the lake after setting his own shoe on fire.

"Yeh," Ambrose confirmed as Madam Nagde asked if they had come from Defence Against the Dark Arts. He pulled off his wet squelching shoe and inspected how burned it was.

"The lake." He told the matron and pouted. "Sent us in the middle of a lake and then sank the boat." He glanced slidelong at Alvis,
"And then Norling had the idea to make a big wave by blowing it up, which, yeh, worked but like, Moira got washed up on the rocks of something."

Yes, Alvis was angry. He was angry at Storm, angry at himself, angry at the world, and he didn't like it. It was miserable, this twisted, ugly mess of emotions. How did people ever manage to hold onto grudges long-term? It'd been barely an hour and he already felt it trying to eat him alive.

He lingered near Moira once they'd set her down, reluctant to move too far from her side despite the migraine quickly blossoming in behind his eyes. Vaguely aware that he was dripping on the floor, he shed the loose robe that was his topmost layer and returned Ambrose's sidelong with a glare.

"If you'd had a better idea, then you should've said it," he snapped. The anger was not for Ambrose, but he caught it anyway by virtue of being the one poking the bear. "We took all the precautions we could and it never would have happened if he hadn't dumped us out there in the first place."

He folded the robe furiously and dropped it over the back of a chair, muttering more to himself than to anyone in the room. "Fifty students, completely uncontrolled, no warning...he's lucky we didn't all end up here. Someone could have drowned. Someone almost did."

The fire, blanket, and heat in general were more than welcome to Moira's cold, aching body. Sure, she had grown up in the highlands and was used to the cold, however, being dumped into a freezing lake in April was something she was not used to. Being cold had kept the bleeding from being so bad, and she leaned forward when Madam Nagde indicated for her to.

Though Moira was definitely out of it and not completely one hundred percent herself, it was very difficult to NOT read he tension and anger from Alvis, and Ambrose's little jab didn't help matters any.

"Alright, ye two, enough. No point in griping aboot it now. We all know it willnae change anythin' except possibly make it worse fer ourselves."

Moira didn't know what Storm would say, if anything, during their next private lesson. Why she insisted on continuing with them she wasn't sure, except a feeling that it might come in handy some day.

Tulojow’s gaze flickered between the two boys, trying to follow the two lines of bitter thought and extrapolate where they met.  Her eyes lingered on Alvis a few moments more as the Ravenclaw summed up the nature of the task.

Definitely sounded like one of Storm’s classes.  Wouldn’t be a Wednesday if some bruised student wasn’t stumbling in with tales of near death experiences. 

“What was the goal of the lesson?” Tulojow asked, turning back to the Hufflepuff.  Presumably, there had been one and Professor Storm hadn’t decided on an end-of-the-year whim to toss the fourth years in boats.  Pending exams were stressful for everyone; he wouldn’t have been the first professor to set students to a random task to buy time or fill a class period. 

After a few gentle dabs at the gash on the girl’s head and looked at it carefully before reaching for her wand.  With practiced precision, she cast delicate nerve blocking charms at key points, deadening the tissue around the room. 

“Did you get hit anywhere else?” she asked the girl.  “Swallow any water?"

"If you'd had a better idea, then you should've said it," Alvis snapped.

"I did, swimming." Ambrose muttered with his arms folded and eyes dark.

"We took all the precautions we could and it never would have happened if he hadn't dumped us out there in the first place."

"He enjoys it." Ambrose uttered, though it was barely heard between Alvis continuing,

"Fifty students, completely uncontrolled, no warning… he's lucky we didn't all end up here. Someone could have drowned. Someone almost did."

"But we didn't so nobody's going to do anything about him." Ambrose sighed and rubbed at his hair to try and get a bit more dry so it would get out of his eyes.

"Alright, ye two, enough. No point in griping aboot it now. We all know it willnae change anythin' except possibly make it worse fer ourselves."

"Perhaps you should have blown us all up, Alvis." Ambrose huffed.

"What was the goal of the lesson?" The healer asked as she tended to Moira's head.

"It's 'cause we had to write an essay about surviving if you end up in water." Ambrose elaborated, not that his essay had been very good, considering. He'd rather focused on the Muggle advice.

"Perhaps you should have blown us all up, Alvis."

Alvis bristled, wringing his tie so tight that it nearly cut off the circulation to his fingers. He might have gone off right there, Moira's call for peace be damned, only he looked up to find auras forming around the hut's lights, spreading wider by the second. That was all the warning he got before the migraine set in. He dropped the tie onto the chair and took off his glasses.

"It wasn't just that," he said at the end of Ambrose's analysis. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the pain without success. "The goal was to get everyone back to shore, using magic and working together. That's why we couldn't just swim. Everyone who swam lost points."

He finally sat down, hands over his eyes and elbows on his knees. The cooling anger and fresh headache combined to summon tears, which made him even angrier with himself. Bloody hell. Getting weepy when he wasn't the one hurt. And in front of Ambrose to boot!

Alvis locked his jaw and forced the urge down, pressing his eyes into the heels of his hands to block out as much light as he could. Moira was the one who'd gotten hurt, and yes, the stupid plan had been his own fault. He could put up with a headache until she got squared away.

Of course they completely ignored her. Moira wasn't really surprised, if she was going to be honest with herself. Her dad and uncle didn't listen to her either when they got into it. At least, they didn't until they pushed her to a point where she 'accidentally' spilled hot food on them at the table.

Continuing to sit still while her head was treated she responded to the healer's questions. "Nae. Nothin' more than a few scratches, anyway, an' Ah'm no' havin' trouble breathin'."

From the corner of her eye she noted Ambrose getting more irritated and Norling appeared to be getting a headache. "Ye can go if ye want. Tis nae the first time Ah've 'ad me head bashed in and it will nae be the last, Ah'm sure." When it had been bashed open previously, she didn't really want to talk about still. It wasn't a light topic and she wasn't comfortable enough with any of them to speak of it.