Chapter 21

Blaise

Due to an incident that occurred at dinner last night in the great hall, Zoe will not be able to attend quidditch practice tonight. She needs to rest and regain her health before she can participate. We aren't sure how long that will take, so we ask you to be patient and give her space. In other words, don't try to contact her. At all.

From,

Eric and Stevie

I reread the letter again, and then again. Each time my eyes skim over the words, I grow angrier, my hands tightening into fists around the parchment until it rips.

An incident that occurred at dinner last night? Last night, I wasn't in the great hall. In fact, I wasn't even in the castle. But that's the least of my concerns right now - what the hell happened to Zoe?

When I look up, I see Eric and Stevie walking a few feet in front of me, whispering cautiously as if someone's trying to listen in on them. I push my way through the dense crowd of students ahead of me, earning me a few dirty looks and agitated grunts. I couldn't care less.

"What the hell is this." I'm fuming when I catch up to them. I jam the letter in front of their faces, demanding an explanation. "What the fuck happened last night? Tell me."

They exchange a telltale glance - a clear display of their distrust for me. Zoe must have told them everything. Damnit.

"Okay, honey, first of all, lose the attitude or scram." Eric says. "And what happened to Zoe is none of your beezwax. All you need to know is that she's not dead. Happy?"

The question is outrageous. 

"No, I'm fucking - I'm not happy. Please, just tell me what happened to her." I try a kinder approach, hoping that it'll appeal to Eric's soft side. "And tell me what this damn letter is about. Please."

"Like Eric said, it's not really any of your concern, Blaise. Only people who care about Zoe deserve to know. She told us what you did, and it's pretty clear that you don't care about her." Stevie says.

"That's not true - I do care about her -"

"Just - shut it." Eric aims a flattened palm at my face. His eyes are closed, like if he looks at me, he'll vomit. I can't have Zoe's friends thinking of me like this - it won't exactly make her want to run back to me with open arms. 

"Zoe is in the hospital wing right now. And if you're really as concerned as you claim to be, she's going to be in the empty classroom in the dungeons tonight to study."

Stevie smacks Eric on the bicep, scolding him for revealing Zoe's location to me. Mentally, I thank him and his big mouth; I knew if either of them was going to tell me anything about her, it wasn't gonna be tight-lipped Stevie. 

"Oh, butternut, I shouldn't have told you that." Eric says. "Just don't go and try to find her if you know what's good for you. I'm not afraid to use my bat-bogey hex on you, Zabini. And I'm not even good at it - who knows what'd happen?"

***

Zoe

One thing I've learned over the past day is that the hospital food at Hogwarts is disgusting.

Three times a day, Madame Pomfrey serves me small meals that smell like bandaids and old cheese, and taste no better. My menu entails two options: a sopping wet pile of mush and a parchment-dry serving of corn bread. It makes me seriously crave my Grandpa Abraham's cooking, and that's saying something. 

However, I shut my mouth, deal with it, and choke the stuff down, because Madame Pomfrey is the one who's single-handedly nursing my contaminated body back to health. I need to be grateful.

The other thing I've learned is that someone at Hogwarts is trying to kill me.

I don't know who, and I don't know why, but the one thing I'm sure of is that someone here is actively trying to harm me. Someone here found a way to slip poison into my drink in the great hall (that's what Professor Dumbledore told me, at least). Someone wants me dead. Gone. Disappeared.

I've tried to guess the identity of my attacker, carefully constructing cases against those who've looked at me oddly in the corridor or who always seem to be in the common room at the same time as me. Sadly, though, my theories always reach dead ends. Deep down, I know I just want to be able to put a face on whoever it is, so I don't have to walk the halls of Hogwarts in fear. 

I also wonder why it's me. Why am I being attacked? I just arrived at Hogwarts this year, and my magic skills aren't exactly up to par, so it's not like I'd be a threat to anyone. And as far as I can remember, I haven't done anything to get on anyone's bad side, either. 

For now, I just need to sit quiet and play dumb. I don't know enough about magic yet to defend myself, but I have a bad feeling that I'm going to need to know soon. 

***

"So, sweets, what's all the fuss about? Why'd you call us up here?"

Eric and Stevie sit perched by my bedside, eyes and ears trained on me. I have something to tell them - and something important, too. 

"It's about...the attack." I can barely force the words from my mouth. The stubbornness within me is still trying to renounce it - it never happened! Pinch yourself, it's all a dream.

"Dumbledore came down today to meet with me about it, and...it wasn't good news. He thinks it's someone in the castle."

Eric's hands clap thunderously over his mouth. None of us have ever been pursued by a killer before - the phenomenon is frightening and fresh, like cold blood seeping out of a wound.

"And that man with the knife outside of the Slytherin dorm room? Dumbledore thinks that he was there for me. He told me that they're hiring some sort of magical creature to protect the castle from bad witches and wizards, but I can't remember what they're called. Dementars, maybe?"

"Heavens!" Eric exclaims, looking like he might faint.

"Dementors, Zoe." Stevie says. "They're some of the darkest, most sinister creatures that you'll ever lay eyes on. They're used as prison guards at the most high-security wizard prison - Azkaban."

"And they're foul, terrible brutes!" Eric cries. "They eat happiness and suck souls!"

My throat is getting smaller and smaller, slowly tightening with fear. I have no interest in Dementors coming to Hogwarts after hearing what Stevie said about them, especially because of something that happened to me. There must be some other way we could protect the castle.

"There, there." I reach out and pat a trembling Eric on the shoulder. I'm not really sure of how to comfort him when I myself am gripped by fear. I do my best.

"I can't do this, Zo. I'm sorry." He chokes out. "I need to go find a hot guy to look at. Catch ya later."

When the door has shut behind Eric, Stevie lets out an exasperated sigh.

"He wants to help you, Zoe." She says. "He just doesn't know how."

"I know, but it's okay. This is hard for everyone." I say.

"You're right - all we can do is try our best. I'm proud of you for being so brave. You've been through a lot in the past couple months. Whenever you need me, just send an owl."

My heart smiles a little bit at her words. Outside, it looks as though the sun has begun to shine a little brighter, too.

"Thanks, Steve."

***

Blaise

By the time quidditch practice rolls around that night, I'm still pissed about the letter from Eric and Stevie.

Ever since my conversation with them, I haven't been able to keep my mind off the thing. I keep re-reading it, picking apart the words and hoping they'll reveal their meaning to me the seventh, even eighth time I read it. But no such luck - the letter seems to be as secretive as its creators.

All day, I've gone around asking anyone who will listen what the hell happened to Zoe. All I've gathered so far is that she passed out - no one will tell me from what. I'm frustrated, beyond mad, but at least I know she is well enough to leave the hospital wing to study.

Tonight, I'm in charge of quidditch practice. 

Flint told me earlier that he was sick and didn't feel well enough to come. It was a challenge for me to even hear his voice without wanting to kick his ass. But I'll deal with him later - right now, I'm just glad I can enjoy quidditch without my hatred for him clinging to me like rot. 

I run a few drills with the team, and then we split in half and scrimmage each other. I try to stay focused, but it feels impossible. There's nothing that can take my mind off of Zoe. I want to go check on her, see if she's alright, but I don't need her loathing me more than she already does. 

"Good work tonight, boys." I say once the scrimmage game has ended. "Go ahead and leave a few minutes early."

The team looks thrilled by my feedback. The last time Flint gave us a compliment, Remus Lupin was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. The real reason I'm ending practice early, though, is because I can't keep my damn mind away from Zoe. The girl has me on a string. 

"And don't repay me for this by playing like shit next practice." I call after them as they walk towards the end of the pitch. "Flint won't be sick anymore, and he'll give all of us hell if we aren't on our A-game."

Miles Bletchley stops walking, and turns around to face me. "You said Flint's sick?"

"Yeah. That's what he told me, at least." 

Miles pauses. "Well, he told me different."

I feel a pinch inside. Flint lying to me? I should've seen it coming. 

"What the hell are you talking about, Bletchley?"

"All I'm saying is that he told me different. Chill out, Zabini."

"Don't tell me to fucking chill out." I am pacing towards him very quickly now, and he stumbles back a few steps. I have a really, really bad feeling about this. "What the hell did Flint tell you?"

"Listen, man, I don't know what happened between you two, but I don't wanna get in the middle of -"

"Don't play defense, Bletchley." I say darkly. "Just tell me where the fuck Flint is."

Miles looks at the ground, unable to meet my eyes. His parted lips are quivering as he struggles to spit the words out. 

"He's - he said he had something to take care of in the dungeons, or some shit like that. That's all I know - I swear - he didn't tell me anything else -"

But I don't need to know what Flint told Miles anymore. I know exactly where he is. 

I break into a run back towards the castle. Zoe's name is whizzing around in my head so quickly that I feel dizzy. 

Zoe. That's what Flint is doing in the dungeons. He was never fucking sick. 

He was going to find Zoe.