“Oi -- are you alive? I’m starving -- you said fifteen minutes. This isn’t fifteen minutes --” he groaned, slumped against the wall across his roommate’s door.
Squib Awareness Week had brought a certain underlying anxiety to Niamh’s day to day life. There was always the usual stressors that got to her, classes Head Girl duties, friends, but this week had added a new level of panic. The idea of the activities was exciting, but ever since the hallway encounter with Lavinia in December, anything drawing extra attention to Squibs seemed dangerous. Things seemed to have gone off without a hitch though, and at the birthday celebration she finally felt comfortable relaxing a tiny bit.
However, the enclosed chaos of the heated tent quickly started to weigh on Niamh. It was loud and cramped, a scene she could only manage with a few drinks in her system. As soon as the new house name was announced Niamh bee-lined for Professor Longbottom. She hadn’t seen Declan lately, but with as many teachers as there were, safety wasn’t an issue.
A quick check in with the head of her house, and Niamh was out the door, escaping onto the quidditch pitch just as night began to fall. It was cold, and she looked down as she trudged back to the castle, blocking her face from the air. Underneath her the grass was flickered with shadows, creating smatterings of near black and bright green, illuminated by lights from the tent.
Suddenly, there was a shape in the grass. A body, lying still and coated in darkness. Niamh rushed forward and dropped to her knees, sliding out her wand as a matter of instinct. The face was thin and clean, the hair ruffled by the wind. Niamh was so flustered that she didn’t fully grasp who the body belonged to until the ‘Head Boy’ badge on his chest became visible.
“Declan,” Niamh gasped, pressing her fingers to his throat hoping she was aiming at the right spot. A million thoughts raced through her head. Hoping he wasn’t dead, wondering what could possibly have happened. She found a breath, maybe a heart beat, enough to assure Niamh that he was at least alive if not conscious.
Without thinking, Niamh flicked her wand at Declan’s body. His head flopped awkwardly as he rose through the air, and she slid her hand under his head. It was hard work keeping him up, but she pushed on, floating him into the castle and to the Hospital Wing.
It took ages to get there, and when Niamh finally deposited Declan on a cot she was exhausted. Her body collapsed into a chair next to him as Natalie McDonald swooped in to the rescue, poking and prodding his still form. She sat there, shivering, until Professors Vector, Sinistra, and Rabnott arrived and ushered the Head Girl off to bed.
The Deputy Headmistress escorted Niamh to the Fat Lady and saw her inside with a “come talk to me soon Niamh,” before returning to the Hospital Wing. Outside on the Quidditch pitch lights still glowed, and Niamh was thankful for the peace and quiet of her dorm. She hadn’t really been thinking since she saw Declan’s body, just reacting. The Healer hadn’t been able to pinpoint the cause of his sudden loss of consciousness, but the glances between the four adults seemed ominous. Hopefully Professor Sinistra would have answers tomorrow, or at the least guesses as to what could possibly have gone wrong.
As Gizmo curled up in her arms the only thing Niamh could think about was the way Declan’s senseless head had felt in her palm, and her fears from earlier in the week. Declan was healthy, how could something like this be an accident? It was obvious that his status was upsetting to some, but would anyone go as far as to harm him?
Almost as instinctively as she’d taken him to the Hospital Wing Niamh began to cry. She remembered the way it had felt when she kissed him. Stupid, obviously, because she didn’t like him that way, but he was so kind. So gentle. Sure he had ambition, a trait almost as foreign to Niamh as being a Squib was, but he was a good person. If harm had been intentionally caused, which she was now sure it had been, then something terrible was afoot.
