80: Mr Nott

Alaric almost missed what happened because everyone in the crowd immediately stood up, jostling to decide whether to look up at the intense patronus or down at the pitch. Fortunately, he was taller enough than those around him. 

Blaise tried — no one could deny that. The moment he saw the bludger hit Theo, he bent flat on his broom and shot forward as if the devil was at his heels, faster than Alaric had ever seen him fly. In fact, Blaise gathered such speed, and at such a terrifying vertical angle, that Alaric felt sure he was going to crash on the ground too. Blaise was too late, but Madam Hooch was not. 

She stood on the grass, wand raised, and managed to slow Theodore's descent, so that his body appeared to be falling through water, not air. By the time Blaise hit the ground, dropping his broom and pelting towards his friend, Theo was lying so peacefully he could've been sleeping. 

Blaise was on his knees, the rest of the team was landing around him, McGonagall was shouting something over the megaphone, and a crowd of green quickly surrounded the two boys, so that no one could see anything. Alaric began to hobble down the wooden steps as quickly as he could. The three girls scurried along behind him. 

"Was that a Patron— Where are you going?" Daphne panted, grabbing his shoulder. 

"Theo," Was all Alaric could think to say. He didn't care if the whole school just witnessed him casting such a strong Patronus that repelled hundreds of dementors away. 

But once they reached ground level, they couldn't get onto the pitch; the heads of houses were shepherding students back into the castle, and wouldn't let them past. 

"Let me go, for fuck's sake!" Alaric yelled when Snape grabbed him by his arm. 

"To the castle, Grindelwald," The professor hissed. "And lest you not forget, you still have detention after dinner,"

Alaric yanked his arm back and glared at him viciously, before walking back to the group. 

"They'll have taken Theodore to the hospital wing," Tracey said. "Maybe Blaise is in the changing rooms?"

"No," Alaric shook his head. "No, he'd want to go with Theo... he probably thinks it's somehow his fault he wasn't paying attention,"

"But it's Flint's fault, right?" Astoria looked up at him, worriedly. "He did hit the bludger, didn't he?"

Alaric clenched his fists and fought the urge to cast the torture curse on Flint the next time he saw him. 

"I'm going to the hospital wing, then." He turned and began to stride towards the castle, trying to get ahead of everyone else. 

"Are you sure Blaise followed him?" Tracey had to jog to keep up, and so did the other two. 

"He'll be there," Alaric replied.

And of course, he was. The day Blaise didn't get their backs would be the day hell turned cold. When they arrived outside the hospital wing, having battled their way through the throngs of gossiping students who kept glancing at Alaric, they found Blaise sitting on the floor outside, elbows resting on his knees, staring into space. He was still in his quidditch robes, his cheeks were still flushed from flying and something else, and his face was dripping from the rain. 

"Is he ok?!" Alaric asked, at once. 

"Yeah, think so," Blaise looked up at them in dazed surprise. "Knocked out cold, though. Pomfrey won't let me in. Snape's probably contacting his dad. Thought I'd better be here."

"We're all here," Alaric said, firmly, sitting down next to Blaise. The three girls eventually huddled next to them, and they all waited. 

"Did you see what happened?" Blaise asked, finally. "I was on the other end of the pitch... I just saw him falling and then..."

"A bludger," Alaric said. "Flint hit one right at Potter, but Potter dodged in time. Theo was behind him. He couldn't have seen it. It was... it was horrible,"

"Shit," Blaise muttered. 

They were quiet for a bit longer. It was starting to grow dark, and the candles in the sconces along the wall opposite began to light themselves. Alaric wondered what the other four were thinking. Were they more worried about Theodore than the patronus, like he was? He felt a bit guilty for never telling them, but it did save him the trouble of being questioned by his uncle and the professors — well, not anymore. Everyone saw it, even in that terrible weather. 

Madam Pomfrey had been patching him up since he was eleven years old, so he knew her abilities were far beyond a bludger to the head. What concerned him more was the state Theo would be after. He'd never liked the game as much as Alaric and Blaise. He only played because the two of them did. 

It's my fault, Alaric thought. It was he who pressured Theo to join the team last year. He even got him a new and expensive broom, not to mention that he enchanted his friend's robes. Of course, Theo wouldn't say no. 

They were disturbed from their thoughts by the quick clicking of shoes on flagstones, and Professor McGonagall's worried voice coming around the corner. 

"Please, Mr Nott, he couldn't be in safer hands with Madam Pomfrey - it's really best that he isn't moved—"

"I think I shall be making the decisions here, Minerva. Worry about the students of your house. And where's Severus? I wish to speak to him," A cold, low voice replied.

Alaric and Blaise lept up, nervously, and Alaric bent to help Daphne to her feet. None of them had ever seen who they could only presume to be Theodore's father. Not only did he rarely talk about him, but they had never once visited his home, whilst theirs had been recurring spots during the summers. McGonagall and Mr Nott came marching around the corner, he in a thick black travelling cloak and sharp, polished shoes. He had that same lanky build Theodore had and a cruel look of superiority Alaric compared to Lucius Malfoy. 

He was accompanied by a small, elderly wizard with a long trailing beard, carrying a heavy-looking dragonskin case. Mr Nott glanced at the five of them outside the hospital wing, but he didn't seem to think it was worth his time and strode past, pushing the wooden doors open with both hands and marching inside. 

They peered from the hallway to watch the scene unfold. McGonagall and the bearded wizard hurried in after Mr Nott.

Theodore was lying in a bed, and from what they could tell, still unconscious — or maybe just sleeping. With his eyes closed, he looked remarkably like his father, but without a beard. Alaric swore he saw him stir when his father approached, swopping towards his son like some terrible vampire bat. 

Madam Pomfrey stepped in, just then. 

"He's quite all right, just a heavy knock," she said, reassuringly. "I've given him a healing draught and mended the fractures,"

"Fractures?" Mr Nott said, sharply. He stood at the end of Theo's bed, looking down at him. He didn't try to reach out for his son but stood still as a statue. 

"Very minor, and completely healed now," Madam Pomfrey said. "He'll be up and about tomorrow morning. Now, I'd advise—"

"This is our family physician," Mr Nott interrupted, extending a hand to introduce the wizened old man beside him. "He will be taking over my son's care. I'm taking him home as soon as he has been thoroughly examined,"

"I'm telling you, everything that can be done has been done," The matron said, sounding rather angry now. 

Nott looked down at her imperiously. 

"Within your competence, I am sure. But he is my son and I will care for him as I see fit,"

Madam Pomfrey turned red in the face and appeared to be quite speechless so that McGonagall had to lean over and whisper something in her ear to mollify her. The old bearded wizard placed his case on the bedside table and opened it, before silently bending over Theodore. 

Meanwhile, Nott had turned his attention to the quintet outside. He did not move from the end of the bed, but his hawkish glare was enough to hold everyone but Alaric in place. 

"You," Mr Nott said, pointing at Blaise. Alaric was sure the man was ignoring him. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Blaise said something, but it came out barely above a whisper. Nott frowned.

"What?" He barked. "Speak up, boy!"

"He's our friend," Blaise said, louder now, though his voice was hoarse and cracked slightly. He looked at Alaric for help. Mr Nott tutted.

"Friends, is it? He did mention..." Theodore's father seemed to remember something but stopped after seeing Blaise's face. "For goodness' sake, have you been crying?! Aren't you a pureblood? Try to show at least a modicum of decorum!"

Blaise did not reply but bowed his head, water dripping down his forehead. Like Alaric thought, Blaise did feel guilty. He must've gone through the same thoughts Alaric had; that it was his fault that Theodore tried out for the team in the first place. 

"You may leave," Nott said, this time having a proper look at Alaric. "I shall allow for a letter to be sent ahead of his return,"

With that, he turned back to Theodore and did not acknowledge Blaise or Alaric again. Blaise started forward, unable to watch any longer, but Alaric held back. He wanted nothing more than to curse the man in front of him. And though he wished it more than anything, McGonagall had apparently seen him, and acted quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently guiding towards the doorway. Madam Pomfrey joined them halfway and handed Blaise a draught too.

"I saw your landing. Rough, if anything. Straight up to bed and drink every drop, you hear me? You shouldn't be in too much pain, but it'll be uncomfortable tonight,"

Blaise nodded, wearily, not speaking. Alaric clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed, then nodded to McGonagall. She looked like she very much wanted to say something to Alaric, but held her tongue, only glancing back at Theodore and Mr Nott. She would keep an eye on the situation, Alaric was sure. She would let him know if anything happened.

At times like these, he wished she was the head of his house. 

The five Slytherins walked most of the way to the dungeons together dead in silence until they came to a dual staircase, and Tracey suddenly said. 

"We've missed dinner,"

Alaric and Blaise glared at her, and she looked very hurt. 

"What I meant," She squeaked, angrily. "Was that I'll go down to the kitchens now and get them to send something up. If that's okay with you two?!"

"Nice one, Tracey," Alaric said, apologetically. 

Tracey turned tail and headed upstairs, while the other four kept going downwards. It was a slow progress since no one was in the mood to walk fast.

"Right state we must look," Blaise muttered, humorlessly, as they paused at the door to the common room.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" Alaric finally asked after saying the password. He'd noticed his small limp.

"Broke my ankle," Blaise said. "Landed too hard on it,"

Daphne winced. Blaise shrugged. "Can't feel it, just a bit wobbly,"

"Well, I'm taking my sister to her room-" ("I'm not a baby!"), "-I'll go to yours when Tracey comes," Daphne said, looking at Alaric. 

When they finally reached their bedroom, Blaise locked himself inside the bathroom to shower and change. Tracey reappeared shortly after with Daphne, laden with sandwiches, fruit, chocolate, cakes and everything else she could carry. 

"Bunch of girls down there want to see you, Al," She huffed, dumping everything onto Alaric's bed. "There's a gang of second years making your Christmas cards already — told 'em to bugger off,"

"Thanks, Tracey," Alaric said. "You're a good friend,"

Tracey smiled, finally. She nodded at the closed bathroom door.

"He ok?"

"He will be," Alaric sighed, stripping off his large wollen coat, leaving it folded on top of his suitcase. Just in his vest and pants, he grabbed a chicken sandwich from his bed and bit into it hungrily, ignoring the small blushes on the two girls' faces. 

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter!