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Debris and pieces of mortar showered all over the group as they sprinted through the broken hallways that once guided hundreds of students towards their classrooms. Overhead there were flashes of light and cracks of thunder; if it were not for the screams and death cries of the combatants that filled in the intervals, one would think that Hogwarts was just going through a bad storm.

The ground under their feet shook hard, and a couple of the group stumbled, catching others' shoulders to break their fall. They came to a stop to catch their breath, looking warily around - but this hallway was deserted. The main battle was happening elsewhere.

"We can't stay here for long," said one of them, a tall boy with tousled hair in a cardigan with Gryffindor colours. "If they find us here, we'll be done for. We need to get into open ground."

"Open ground? It's literally everywhere, Sebastian!" said a girl with her hair in a bun, though most of it was coming loose in tired strands. She waved her hands at the hallway they had just run down. "I think we should go back to the courtyard, seriously! People might need our help there!"

"No, it's too dangerous! Finding another area to take on the Death Eaters would be better, and we'll keep moving." The boy called Sebastian looked around at the rest of their group, and then at the two most winded members. One of them had a rather striking half-head of white hair. "Got your breath back?"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on." One of them slipped off his Slytherin tie. "Ugh, can't even breathe. Hold on a bit, I thought I saw Ruth being chased down that way by a Death Eater!" He pointed towards their left, where the hallway split off and disappeared down a flight of stairs. "I'm gonna go after her, see if she needs help."

The group looked between themselves, and then at Sebastian, who raised an eyebrow. "You sure it was Ruth, Demarcus?" he asked. "Don't want you to go chasing illusions. What if it was some Death Eater watching us?"

"I swear on Merlin's dirty socks." Demarcus looked around at them and sighed. "Seriously? You all going to give me those looks?" He turned to the boy with the white hair. "You saw it too, right, Arc? C'mon, tell me I wasn't the only one."

The one named Arc waved a hand feebly as he finally caught his breath back. "Marc, if you saw it, you saw it. If you saw it through the whole Dementor thing when they were chasing us back there, good for you, because I don't work well with Dementors."

"And they'll be coming for us. Come on, let's go." Sebastian turned around. Demarcus grabbed his sleeve and yanked the Gryffindor student towards him, his eyes glinting in the distant light of a fire.

"I'm not letting Ruth go at the mercy of a Death Eater," he snapped at Sebastian, their noses an inch apart. "I'm gonna go find her and that's that. You gonna stop me?"

For a moment they stared at each other. The girl made as if to move, but Arc put out a hand to stop her. "Arcturus, we can't spend all day here--"

"Lyra, we can't stop them, you know that right?" he said quietly. She pouted, but subsided.

Finally Sebastian said, "Fine. Go. The rest of you come with me, we're going to find some open ground."

"Are you just letting Marc go on his own like that?" Arcturus asked, suddenly alarmed. "Bastian, you can't just-- Look, I'm going with him."

"Wh-- Arc, you can't just--"

"He's a friend," said the boy with the white hair firmly, "and I'm going with him."


As they clattered down the deserted stairway, Demarcus kept glancing at Arcturus. Finally he said, "Hey Arc."

"Yeah?" Arc stopped before the last step of the staircase and raised his wand. "Hold on. Homenum Revelio."

After a moment he nodded. "Coast is clear. Let's go." Demarcus looked somewhat relieved, and they set off down a narrow passageway to the right of the stairs. "You were saying, Marc?"

"Thanks for coming with me," he said, as their footsteps echoed down the passageway. "I mean, seriously. I swear Sebastian thinks I'm always up to something, but really--"

"Well, you usually have a lot on your mind," said Arc. "Sebastian's got fair points when he gets on your case for acting weirdly, but you also have to deal with your family matters, right? I just hope your family's going to be okay, yeah?"

"Don't worry about mine, what about yours? Merlin, you've been looking a lot more tired lately. Only a couple of weeks ago you were having nightmares." Demarcus looked down at the top of Arc's head. "Your family's halfblood, right? Oh no, wait, your mum's Muggleborn..."

"Yeah. I don't think I have to explain the rest for you." Arc lifted up his wand as the passageway in front of them became darker, but Demarcus put a hand on his wrist.

"I'll do it. Don't strain yourself." He chuckled. "I can do Lumos just fine, thanks to you. Charms is so easy for you, how do you even do it?"

Arc stopped. In the light of Demarcus' wand, he looked somewhat gaunt and tired. "Is this really the time? What are you going to do next, declare your love for me?"

The Slytherin student laughed, but they kept going down the passageway. Arc squinted ahead; it seemed just dark and hollow ahead. "Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"It's a shortcut I know, shh, don't tell the others. Ruth and the Death Eater were going this way, this is just easier so people won't, you know, see us." Demarcus peered ahead. "Pretty dark, actually." He flicked his wand, and then flicked it again. "Lumos Maximus," he said loudly, though his voice wavered.

Nothing happened. He tried again, his voice wavering again. The light at the tip of his wand flickered, and then went off, leaving them in darkness, but Arc's voice echoed through the passageway without faltering. "Lumos Maximus!"

Bright light filled the entire passageway, illuminating their path ahead and every edge of every stone that the walls and floor were built from. Demarcus shoved his hands in his pockets sheepishly as Arc stepped on ahead.

"Yeah, I still haven't got a hold of that," he said, as they headed onwards. "Sorry."

"You'll get it one day." Arc kept looking ahead. "I'll teach you, and you'll get good at it just like you've done with all the charms we've learned. Don't apologise, you did nothing wrong."

Demarcus chuckled as they resumed walking. "Man, where do you get to be so nice? We're in the middle of a war, your family's in danger--"

"Can you stop bringing up my family?"

"--we're stuck down here going to try and help someone and you could've left me to go alone, but you didn't." He stopped walking so abruptly that Arc took a few paces ahead before he realised. "Why didn't you? Go with Bastian?"

"You're my friend, Marc." Arc held his wand up high as he peered ahead. "Slythie or not. And it's...just nice to help people, okay? Can we move on? Where are we going? It looks like there's a light at the end...like a tunnel, heh. Nox."

The light turned out to be the greyish-green glow of some dying light in a lamp hanging from the ceiling of an old bathroom. Arc looked around it, and then turned to Demarcus. "Marc, wh--"

A blast of light hit him, hurling him into the wall opposite and knocking the breath out of him, before landing on the marble floor below on his front. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest and cried out. It hurt. He heard the sound of footsteps approach him, and he tried to lift his head from the floor, but the sharp pain went through his chest again. What had happened? And where was his wand? He'd been holding it--

Where was his wand?

Arc didn't get to look up to find it. Instead, a hand seized his hair roughly and yanked him upwards. He cried out, except that breathing was so painful it ended in a half-choke instead. He looked up just to see Demarcus wave his wand at him, and suddenly he had no control over his own body as his arms snapped to his side. He couldn't move any of his limbs.

Part of him was thankful over that, but he was still staring at Demarcus. It had happened so fast. Breathing hurt. The cold stone wall behind him made the back of his neck prick as he saw the Slytherin student point his wand at him.

"'It's just nice to help people.'" Demarcus' tone was sneering. "I don't know how you stay so naive when this war's tearing families apart. When everything goes to hell, it's every man for himself. Yet you're here, trying to help me, when all I wanted to do was go find my Death Eater buddies."

Arc looked around at himself, only his eyeballs moving. He was being literally suspended half a foot from the floor, ramrod straight and unable to move. This was his friend? Marc, who when he came to the school in his first year couldn't cast a proper charm worth a damn?

Demarcus saw his gaze. "Oh, I suppose you'll want me to explain. Sure, I owe you at least that much in exchange for teaching me how to use charms. Yeah, I sucked pretty bad, right? Don't look at me like that, I know everyone laughed at me behind my back. But you, of all people, decided to teach me, not knowing that this whole thing about charms was what I needed to get my family back on track, huh? They needed their heir to be able to do something properly, and you helped us. Death Eaters laughed at us because their son couldn't cast a spell right, and then they accepted us once you taught me how to. Funny, right?"

The Slytherin student paced up and down the old bathroom, Arc's eyes following him. Breathing was still hurting, but it was just a dull ache now that he'd found out shallow breaths didn't hurt so much. He must have cracked a rib. That was what he'd read from all those healing books. It kind of matched the description.

"You're pretty smart, I'll give you that." Demarcus threw Arc's wand at his captive; it hit the wall, narrowly missing his face, and clattered to the floor. "Smart enough to make me jealous of you. You came to teach me, saying you could help me out - was it because you wanted to show me you knew things? Or what? I don't know about you, but this 'I want to help people' thing is weird. You put so much effort into helping people and you want nothing? No, there's got to be some underlying motive. No one helps out of the goodness of their heart. There's no such thing."

Though he couldn't say anything, Arc's eyes did an aside glance. He regretted it immediately. Demarcus flicked his wand at him. For a moment he felt the Full Body-Bind lift, and then what felt like invisible ropes suddenly tightened around him, sending horrible pains through his entire body. Arc cried out from that, coughed, and then cried out from coughing. "Marc...stop..."

Demarcus brought his face close to Arc's. "What do you want from the people you help? You can't just be helping for free, right? What do you want?"

The bound Ravenclaw student shook his head. "Nothing," he gasped. "I...it just...feels nice..."

"Oh." Demarcus drew away, tilting his head back and looking down at Arc. "I see. It makes you happy. Really? Are you sure you're not hiding anything from me?"

"Yes." Arc was back to taking shallow, fast breaths. "Because...you're my friend..."

But even as he said that, he felt that it wasn't his voice. He'd had enough of this. His father was finding false friends at every corner he turned, his sister was dead and no one protected her...and now he was getting his share of how it felt. "I really...wanted to help you. I mean, it was easy for me, so...why not? But I didn't...you're with the Death Eaters...why?"

"Because people with filthy blood like you exist. You, and all your brains and your skill with magic." Arc saw the flash of a blade, and then he could feel the sharp edge resting lightly against his cheek. He froze, his eyes looking into Demarcus'. "You and your kind taking away all that power from us. It's ours, you understand? And if more people like you keep getting born, then all that's left will be impurities like you.

"Oh, you think this is such a minor thing, huh? Blood purity? I looked up your family tree, Arcturus Hollingbury, and your entire family's a disgrace. Some kind of blight upon the wizarding world, just like the Muggleborns." Demarcus leaned down, tracing the tip of his blade down Arc's neck. "You're all scum who shouldn't exist. Mixing blood like that. I take my gratitude back from you. You only taught me to show off your skills, make yourself look better than me. Don't shake your head or I'll cut you."

Arc stopped, trembling as his eyes remained affixed on Demarcus' face. The Slytherin student scoffed. "Friend. Well, I don't want you as a friend. The Death Eaters would be horrified to find out that you taught me. You've got to go, and there'll be one less of your kind to spread about in the world."

The tip of the blade was tracking its way up and down his neck. Arc felt that he was trembling so hard that the knife would cut him anyway. He looked up at Demarcus. He said nothing, but his eyes said everything. Pleading. Begging. There was nothing much else he could do. Just get it over with.

He saw Demarcus' lips curl in gloating. "Alright, I can't possibly be that mean all the time. Here, I'll give you some...respite."

His body froze. For a moment Arc couldn't figure out why. Then he saw the flash of the knife, and the stains on it. The warmth of a liquid running down his torso sealed the realisation. Demarcus stepped back, and the rope-bind on him released, letting him hit the floor and half-gasp, half-choke in pain. Arc would have curled up in the pain if it didn't hurt even more to move.

"Well, that's a favour to you." Demarcus turned away, tucking his wand into his robes and throwing the knife into a sink. "Bleed you dry of that filthy blood. That's the least I can do for you in return."

His footsteps faded into the distance, but Arc no longer focused on that. The pain from the knife was now overtaking his ribs, filling him with one endless surge that hit like a train every time he even twitched. The smell of iron filled his nostrils, and he struggled to wrap one arm around his torso. How did one stop the bleeding? He couldn't remember. His mind was wavering, his thoughts starting to scatter. But he clutched at the wound, willing it to stop.

The blood was starting to spread; he could feel it soaking through his robes. It was slipping past his fingers at a frighteningly rapid pace. He looked down, painful as it was, and stared at his blood-covered arm.

His head was beginning to feel light. Arc struggled to focus, trying to stem the bleeding with his fingers. Where was his wand? It was by his foot. He tried to move; he had to stop because it hurt so much. But the pain, strangely, was dissipating in his head.

Dad will find out about me the same way he found out about Allie, he thought. Dad and mum. And everyone else. Is this how dying feels? I don't want to go. I want to go home.

He could hear the explosions overhead as people screamed. He willed for someone to find him. Friend or foe...at least a Death Eater would shut him down. Stop him from thinking about everything.

Maybe I'll see her. Allie's on the other side. Maybe it won't be so bad. But he didn't want to go. He wrapped his arm tighter around his torso, and was surprised to find it...painless. Or did he just do that? He wasn't sure. Everything was getting fuzzy, and light, and...fading. Trying to focus was like trying to hold in his blood. It was slippery, it was escaping, and...

...it felt oddly dream-like.

His eyelids were heavy. Arc made one final attempt to keep them open, but his mind was too tired. Everything he'd just learned and everything he was feeling right now was too much. He wanted to slip away and just...not be.


Voices. Arc frowned a little. Voices? Why voices? Surely there weren't people in his head right now. Their words were garbled, and sounded as if they were coming through a thick layer of air, so definitely not in his head.

He tried to open his eyes. They opened quite easily, and his gaze met the ceiling of the Great Hall. Once it was filled with lights, stars and sky. Now it was dull grey stone, illuminated by rays of the waking sun. It was exactly how he felt right now.

"He's awake! Guys!"

Was he supposed to recognise the voices? He didn't know. His body felt as heavy as lead, but there was soft material under him and over him. Could he move his fingers? Yes. Hand? Yes. Arm? Yes.

A girl's face appeared over him, upside down. She stared at him, and then she pulled away. "No, I'm serious this time! He's awake!"

He still felt incredibly tired, but before he could close his eyes again she popped up once more. "Hey, Arc. Can you hear me? Can you see me? How are you feeling? Do you need something? Water? A, a fan? Uhm."

"Seriously, Lyra?" said someone off to the side. The girl looked up and stuck out her tongue. Her Slytherin tie tickled his nose, and he instinctively snorted.

"Oops! Sorry. I keep forgetting to take it off." She did so, and as she did a few more upside down faces turned up. Arc gazed up at all of them. They seemed to be expecting him to say something. So he did.

"...What...time is it?" he asked. His voice was horribly croaky, and his throat dry. As much as he didn't want to do it, he had to - he coughed. But there was no pain.

"Uhh." Clearly they'd expected him to say something else; they were looking at each other in confusion. Lyra rose to the occasion, however. "It's something like...six thirty? In the morning. If you say 'well, obviously', Sebastian," she added to the boy with the Gryffindor colours, "I'm going to punch you once we're done making sure he's okay."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. Lyra looked back down at Arc. "Does that help?"

"How did I get here?" It was all coming back, but in flashes of images that he really didn't want to see again. Blood. Knife blade. Those eyes. Too much blood. "What...who--"

"Sebastian got antsy and decided to go back to find you and Demarcus," Lyra said. "And we kinda found you...like, in a really bad way. But then we had a truce, Voldemort called it, and then thank Merlin we got you to Madam Pomfrey in time."

"She said you were this close to death." Sebastian held up a hand; his forefinger and thumb were barely a quarter of an inch apart. "If we'd left it just a couple of seconds longer, that would've been it. You lost a lot of blood; she basically had to force Blood Replenishing Potion down your throat to k-- Ow!" Lyra had pinched him - hard, by the looks of it. "What? He has to know, right?"

"That's got to be the worst way ever, Bastian! What did you think he just went through? Merlin knows what Demarcus did to him, you saw the mess!"

Arc lay there, trying to make sense of it all. It seemed so...distant. Had it been real? Had everything been real? Was everything real now? He wasn't sure. He didn't know. But what he did know was that he was tired, and...he wasn't alone.

He lifted a hand free of the blanket over him, reaching out towards the two arguing students. "Guys?" His voice was quiet and he wasn't sure if they'd heard, but they did. They stopped to look at him.

"Yeah?" said Lyra, in the resulting silence.

"I...I'm a bit tired." He sounded it, even to himself. "I think I need to sleep a bit more. Will you be here?"

Lyra nodded. "Yeah." She smiled. "We will be."

Arc nodded back. "Good." He felt his hand lower onto the blanket, and felt himself sink into tranquility. He welcomed it. Away from everything.

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