A Little Knowledge

Martin returned to awareness very slowly. The first things he noticed were that he felt heavy, weighted down, and too warm. Then he realized that his body ached. It wasn’t just one of his legs, or an arm, or his stomach; his entire body from the tips of his toes to even the ends of his hair hurt with a dull, muted, and uniformly throbbing pain. And, oddly enough, he could not say precisely why he was sore all over nor why he seemed to be swaddled in blankets. The entire affair, from his limited perspective, was very strange.

“May I’ve been ill and have a fever,” he pondered silently.

“I think he’s coming around,” said an uncertain voice somewhere to his right.

“Corinna?” he puzzled as fingers combed through his hair, making the pain less uniform as they pulled at his slightly tangled curls.

“Yes, he definitely twitched,” observed Sissy in a very bored and clinical tone. She was just to his left. Suddenly someone turned his head one way and then the other. “His color isn’t improving though. Still nearly as pale as that devil...”

“Don’t talk about it!” objected a small and weary voice that was a bit farther away. Martin had some difficulty identifying this particular voice as belonging to Sophia. She sounded as though she had been crying, which was hardly like her, or maybe she had a head cold.

“I’m sorry,” said Sissy impassively.

“He’s going to live. Madam Pomfrey promised you before the Healers took him. Please, Sophia, just don’t cry anymore!” begged someone with a very fiery and lively disposition who sounded as though she were nearly at her wits’ end.

“Olivia,” Martin decided, although he didn’t understand to whom she was referring. He had many unanswered questions floating around in his tired and confused brain.

“Do you think poking him would help?” asked Olivia.

“Oh, don’t!” objected Sophia. “Please, don’t!”

“His parents said that he would need time. Last night was very hard on him,” said Corinna, continuing to fiddle with his hair. He thought he understood now why hers was messy all the time: she just wouldn’t leave it alone.

“What happened?” Martin asked himself, thinking as hard as he could manage, but still coming up with nothing.

“He moved again,” said Sissy.

Martin felt his left hand being lifted. Someone, presumably Sissy, was checking his pulse.

“So heavy...” he thought.

“He feels too warm. Are we certain that he needs all these blankets?” she questioned.

“Madam Pomfrey said that he mustn’t get a chill,” responded Sophia.

Sissy caressed his hand before returning it to where ever she had found it. Martin assumed it was attached to his body, but he had no way of verifying that. He was only vaguely aware of it and that was because of the lingering pain.

“Did I get hurt?” he wondered, knowing with some certainty that he was in the hospital wing.

“His mum and dad will be back soon. I wish we could talk to him before,” said Olivia with a small sigh.

Martin wanted to smile at that. Olivia almost always made him want to smile. He could quite seem to work his lips, however.

“I’ve already informed you of everything that happened ... in very precise detail,” said Sissy in a mildly affronted tone.

“We just want to talk with him ... Let him know that ... that we’re worried and that we care about him,” said Sophia, sniffling as she spoke.

“There she goes, more bloody crying,” said Sissy with a frustrated sound.

Martin actually felt a bit embarrassed, and quite touched, but he was very curious to know why exactly Sophia was crying, and apparently had been crying for sometime. He didn’t think it was entirely because of him.

“Here. I brought an extra handkerchief,” said Corinna, although Martin knew quite well that she normally didn’t carry them.

“Has your gift come back yet?” asked Sissy.

“No,” replied Corinna with a cheerful note in her voice, “and Professor Mallaghan said that it could be gone for weeks or even months after something like this.”

“Like what?” Martin wanted to ask her, though he was quite pleased to hear her sound so happy about something for a change. That was quite the improvement.

“His eyebrow moved,” said Olivia.

“Did it?” Martin thought curiously.

He realized then that he wanted to open his eyes and wake up so that he could talk to the girls, though he couldn’t quite figure out how to do this. Just to think about raising his eyelids seemed to take an enormous amount of effort, and the more effort and thought that he expended in the attempt, the more painful and intense the lingering soreness and ache became to him. Martin didn’t care for that at all.

“Maybe we should get Madam Pomfrey,” said Sophia worriedly.

“No, she would only give him more potions and make us leave,” said Sissy sharply. “We were only allowed back here in the first place because of Professor Dumbledore,” she added.

Martin thought he might be able to interject a question, eyes open or not, at that point as it had been bothering him for sometime.

“Why am I here?” he wanted to ask, but all that came out was, “Murgh?”

“Martin? Martin, can you hear us?” asked Olivia excitedly.

Something that felt like a finger poked him in the stomach through the blankets several times. Yes, definitely Olivia.

He moved his head a little, wanting to nod if he couldn’t talk properly, but that made his ears ring and the pain intensify. He decided that it was probably for the best to lie still and wait for the pain to stop. He only hoped that it would.

“Move,” ordered Sophia.

He felt Sissy shift slightly, perhaps moving closer to the foot of the bed that she had previously been sitting. He was jostled ever-slightly by someone else taking a seat next to him. Martin didn’t mind this so much as it gave him something more pleasant to concentrate on than the pain.

“Martin,” said Sophia in a very firm, although certainly not unkind, voice, “you’ve got to wake up ... even if it hurts. I know you probably don’t understand what’s happened to you, but we’ll explain everything if you open your eyes for us. And we’ll get you anything you need. Madam Pomfrey’s just in her office...”

Her hand felt blessedly cool against his cheek. He wanted very much to comply with her instructions.

“She doesn’t understand how much it hurts,” Martin thought unhappily.

“I never realized the effects of the curse could linger for this long,” Sissy murmured.

“I would guess it’s because he’s so young. I don’t imagine even your books have much information about eleven-year-olds being exposed to the Cruciatus Curse,” said Sophia.

“You’re right,” acknowledged Sissy.

“The Cruciatus Curse?” thought Martin as ripple of shock ran through him. “Someone used an Unforgivable on me? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Although it did explain the discomfort he was experiencing.... Martin knew more than enough about the curse from looking through Sissy’s books. He had not liked anything he had read on the subject, but he had been initially quite curious. Now that he had firsthand experience with the curse, he believed that he understood why it was so terrible, though the memory of being its victim, or rather someone’s victim, was still very hazy in his mind.

Martin attempted to formulate another question, wanting to ask them, “Who did this to me?” All that came out was, “Wurgh?” While he considered that a slight improvement, he also fancied that he sounded a bit silly.

“That’s it,” said Sophia in an encouraging tone, touching his cheek again.

“I hope he comes out of it before his parents get back...” said Olivia impatiently.

Martin thought he could hear her bouncing from one foot to the other. That was enough to make his lips twitch, and while he wasn’t necessarily sure he was smiling, he was quite certain that he did indeed have lips.

“So-fee-uh?” he mumbled.

“I’m right here,” said Sophia, discerning her name from his utterance.

“Well, he is coming around,” said Sissy grudgingly.

Martin never interpreted the tone of her voice as a jealous one, but she had wished that he had called for her, especially since she had practically saved his life and all.

The room seemed overly bright, which it really wasn’t, and rather smudgy as he finally opened his eyes. He was not at all surprised to see, once the smudginess faded, the girls crowded around him. Martin smiled more widely at that.

“Welcome back,” said Sophia with tears in her dark eyes. “We’ve missed your company,” she added.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Sophia and Corinna immediately began propping him up with pillows to help him sit up. His body protested at the movement, but he tried not to grimace too much.

“How do you feel?” asked Corinna.

“Tired ... and sore,” he admitted, “but ... I don’t exactly know why.” The last part of his reply was like a sheepish confession.

“You don’t remember?” asked Sissy, raising an eyebrow.

Martin shook his head and rested against the pillows. He had a cold feeling in his stomach that contrasted violently with how warm he felt on the outside. The girls, except Sissy, all looked uncertain.

“The vampire...” Sissy prompted as gently as she could manage.

Martin furrowed his brow and asked, “It did this?”

“It cursed you before Professor Knowles and I destroyed it,” she said with a flash of pride in her eyes. “Your father put the ashes in a bottle ... though I’m not certain why. I suppose he’d let you see them,” she continued.

“Possibly,” said Martin, blinking at this information. He wasn’t certain which thought was stranger: the vampire being dead or his father bottling its ashes.

“Maybe ... maybe it’s better that you can’t remember,” said Corinna.

“I’d rather be able to,” said Martin with a slight frown and a very earnest look.

“It will come back to you in time. The Cruciatus Curse doesn’t have a very strong effect on the memory,” said Sissy in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What can you remember?” asked Olivia.

“Running down the tower stairs...” he answered after a moment’s thought. That was the last thing he remembered clearly at any rate. “We were yelling ... for someone,” he said, scrunching up his face in a way that would ordinarily have been quite comical.

“For Sophia,” Corinna reminded him.

“What for?” asked Martin.

“I saw that Professor Krohn was going to be hurt. We wanted to warn him,” she answered.

“Was he?” he asked curiously, glancing at Sophia, who ducked her head and sighed softly. That was all the answer he required. “I’m ... sorry,” he stammered.

“Don’t get her started. We’ve had to listen to it all night -- except when they made us sleep -- and all morning too. Krohn will be fine. The vampire just cracked his skull, nothing more,” snapped Sissy.

“Oh, don’t be so callous!” said Corinna in an equally sharp tone. “If it had been Professor Knowles...”

“Please, don’t argue,” asked Sophia very quietly.

Sissy glared at Corinna before turning to Sophia and saying, “As you wish. I believe we were trying to jog Martin’s memory.”

Martin realized that the argument had been going on for some time, apparently since late the previous evening, and although he wanted to know more about what had happened to the professor, he thought it best not to ask at the moment.

“Do you recall running after the vampire?” inquired Sissy.

“Not so much,” he answered, shaking his head, which caused it to throb sharply. This reminded him just how much he hurt all over. “I want to know everything, but I think this should wait ... I’m tired and it still hurts,” he explained.

“Of course you are,” said Sophia, lifting her head and looking at him with a concerned expression. “It’s so awful, what you’ve been through...” she sniffed. “I think I ought to fetch Madam Pomfrey. She can give you something for the pain,” she told him, slipping from the bed.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it,” he replied with a tremulous smile.

Sissy moved closer to where she had previously been sitting and looked down at him with a mildly imperious expression.

“You should have spoken up,” she admonished him.

Martin blinked, suddenly remembering her looking a bit flushed from a run and very grim. They had chased the vampire? Through the castle, but without any luck?

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Do us all a favor and don’t mention Krohn around Sophia ... at least until he comes back,” she counseled. “He very nearly died, you know. It would hardly have been a great loss to the school, but Sophia would have been devastated. Stupid brute ... he should have ran away,” Sissy muttered in a low voice.

“Well, that isn’t very nice!” objected Corinna, who had a special understanding of the potions’ instructor because of her visions.

“Neither was .. is he,” sneered Sissy.

Olivia just shook her head and chose not to get involved. It took some effort on her part, though she wasn’t quite ready to defend Krohn, no matter what had happened. Silence on the matter was better.

“I won’t say anything,” Martin told them, though he very much wanted to know the details.

Krohn was the very last person he would have expected to attempt to fight the vampire. Of course, Professor Knowles also was the last person he expected to have a hand in defeating it. So much for expectations.

“It’s about time you woke,” said Madam Pomfrey in a crisp voice as she entered the section of the ward that had been screened off for Martin’s benefit. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked, shooing Olivia, Corinna, and even Sissy, who gave her a rather unpleasant look, out of her way.

“Sore,” Martin replied, having no other way to describe the pain.

“That’s to be expected,” said the mediwitch, taking out her wand and waving it over him.

This made Martin very uncomfortable for several reasons, not the least of which was that it made him ache even more, which was nearly intolerable, and it did not seem as though Madam Pomfrey intended to stop this at all soon. But Martin could quite figure out a way to ask her to stop that didn’t sound uppish or even rude and attempted to bear it silently.

Of course Sissy, who was watching the mediwitch closely, noticed that Martin had turned somewhat paler and was struggling not to twitch or grimace.

“Martin, does it hurt?” she asked him.

He merely nodded and looked up at her gratefully.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” said Madam Pomfrey, quickly stopping what she was doing and sitting down next to Martin. “Poor boy,” the young mediwitch whispered as she tucked her wand away. It was a good diagnostic instrument, but sometimes treating patients required a more human touch. She felt his forehead and noted that he seemed slightly warm.

“Thank you,” he managed.

“Not at all,” she answered. “I should summon your parents. They’ll be pleased to know that you’re doing so well,” Poppy told him.

“I’d ... I’d like to see them,” he stammered weakly.

“Let me give you something for the pain ... and your other symptoms,” she said, standing and striding back into the open part of the wing.

“All right?” asked Olivia, plopping down on the bed next to him and favoring him with a worried smile. Martin was very relieved that she didn’t nudge him or poke him again.

“Horrid cow. She should’ve known better than that,” said Sissy in a very cross voice as she loomed over Martin and inspected his color.

“I imagine she doesn’t have much experience with curses like this...” said Sophia, who thought Madam Pomfrey had behaved quite professional, as always, but perhaps should have been a bit gentler with her patient. “No exactly a broken arm or the flu, is it?” she commented.

“No,” answered Martin, who, incidentally, had had both before.

The sound of footfalls made Olivia grudgingly get up and move aside for Madam Pomfrey, who was a stirring a beaker of yellow and red potions that didn’t seem to mix particularly well with one another as the yellow was floating on top while the red sank to the bottom of the glass container.

“Drink this,” she ordered brusquely, removing the stir and giving the vessel to Martin.

He wrinkled his nose at the smell and did as she asked. The yellow tasted quite bitter; the red was sour. Surprisingly, they didn’t nauseate him, but the potions were nonetheless unpleasant.

“Your parents will be here momentarily,” she assured Martin, taking the empty beaker from him before leaving.

“They just went to get a bite and some tea. We overheard Madam Pomfrey say they were up all night, even after we went to bed,” said Corinna.

“Your father thought it was a good idea to have us watch you while they were gone. They didn’t want you to be alone,” said Olivia.

“Professor Dumbledore wanted us to stay,” corrected Sissy.

Martin smiled a little at that. He could well imagine that his mum would have thought the girls too young for such responsibility.

Olivia turned toward the opening of the screen that separated them from the rest of the wing.

“I think I hear them coming,” she said, looking slightly wistful, as though she wished they had had more time to spend with Martin before the arrival of his mother and father.

But Martin couldn’t remember the last time he was so pleased to see his parents, certainly not since his mother had begun teaching, but when they stepped into view he was practically elated.

“Mum!” he exclaimed, sitting up straighter and noticing that the pain was subsiding, thanks to the potions.

“Martin!” she said in a very relieved tone, striding quickly toward the bed. She hugged him tightly as she sat down beside him, a position that she had occupied, unbeknownst to him, for the better part of six hours during the previous night.

He winced slightly as his mother hugged him, but he was glad that she was there. The girls were very comforting in their own way; however, no one could make him feel as safe and secure as his parents, especially his mum.

“Let him have some air, my dear,” advised his father with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

That twinkle had nearly disappeared the night before when Dumbledore had come to the hospital wing to find his son being sedated after a nasty brush with the Cruciatus Curse. While Madam Pomfrey had been in the process of treating Martin for the pain under the watchful eyes of Minerva and three of the four young Ravenclaws, Dumbledore had spoken with Cyrus Knowles, who had been present immediately following the administration of the curse. He had also carried Martin to the hospital wing with some assistance from Miss Howard.

“I wish I could have done more or got there sooner, Albus,” Knowles told Dumbledore, wearily shaking his head. There was a rueful expression on his slightly pale face.

“Don’t be foolish; you battled a vampire and lived to tell the tale, which is more than many wizards can say. I can find no fault with that,” Dumbledore replied, glancing over at his son, who was moaning in protest as Poppy coaxed a fizzing orange liquid into his mouth. His mother was busy unlacing his boots so they could get him into hospital robes.

“Miss Howard destroyed the thing. It has little to do with me,” he said quickly.

“It was your wand...”

“Her spell...”

“Which you taught to her.”

“Enough,” Cyrus sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly and taking a deep breath. “It is dead and gone. That is enough for me. I don’t know if ... if I can truly say that my loss ... nor Reynard’s ... has been avenged, but at least there is that: it can never harm anyone else ever again.”

“Do you want the ashes?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, but Reynard ... if he lives ... he’ll want them all right. Such things are hard to come by in his trade,” replied Knowles unhappily. His thoughts were most surely with his injured colleague, who taken away by Healers that had been brought in from St. Mungo’s. Reynard was no longer there with him nor any longer under the watchful eyes of Miss Colville.

Dumbledore smiled at his son and affectionately ruffled his hair.

“I am very proud of you,” he said as Minerva let go of him.

“Albus! Don’t say such things! He’ll get the wrong idea,” she admonished her husband.

“No, I won’t!” said Martin with some conviction, leaning back against the pillows again and feeling drained.

“I hope he won’t have the opportunity, but nevertheless, he was quite brave,” Dumbledore argued.

“But obviously not very clever,” Martin muttered quietly, “or else I wouldn’t be in here.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” said his mother.

“I can’t really remember what happened...” he confessed, looking down at his blankets and twisting his fingers together.

“You’re friends haven’t told you?” asked Dumbledore, glancing at the girls a bit incredulously.

“They haven’t had a chance,” he replied. “I mean, I know I was hit by the Cruciatus Curse and that Sissy and Professor Knowles destroyed the vampire ... and there was some running ... and Professor Krohn was injured ... but I can’t figure out where I fit into all of this, other than the vampire wanting to kill me and all,” said Martin.

Minerva patted his hands comfortingly, but allowed her husband to answer.

“From what I’ve learned,” said Dumbledore, looking at his son’s friends again, “the vampire came into the castle as soon as it was dark enough for it to be relatively safe and was going to attempt to get into the Aerie. I doubt we shall ever know its true plans regarding that matter. It happened upon Professor Krohn, who attempted to drive it off, but without success. Your friends were a bit vague regarding the details of the next bit, other than to say that Miss Howard and you gave chase.”

Martin flushed scarlet at this, remembering his determination that this affair should be finished for good or ill. It had been very foolhardy. Of course, it wasn’t very difficult to come to this realization while lying in a hospital bed.

“From Miss Howard’s narrative on the subject, I gather that you caught up with it in the old staff quarters, or rather, it caught the two of you there,” said Dumbledore.

“Then it used the curse on me?”

“That’s right,” his father nodded. “But if you ever recall anything after that point, I should be very much amazed. The dark powers of the undead are nearly unmatched, making its curses, especially the worst of them, all the more potent.”

“But Sissy and Professor Knowles killed it?”

“Yes, and they did a very fine job of it. Vampires are notoriously difficult to kill,” said Dumbledore with a deferential nod in Sissy’s direction. The young Ravenclaw merely looked prim.

“So this entire nasty affair is over,” said Minerva, smiling at her son. “I’ve sent an owl to Alastor, letting him know,” she added.

“Really?” he asked, suddenly looking a bit more cheerful.

“Of course. I’ve had no reply yet, but I can imagine that you’ll hear from him quite soon,” she told him.

“That would be wonderful,” said Martin, adding silently, “especially if I manage to remember what happened as I’m sure he’ll want to know every detail.”

“Minerva, I believe we’ve taxed our son enough. He looks rather tired, and Poppy said that he will need a great deal of rest...” said Albus gently.

“For how long?” asked Martin.

“She wants you to stay here for three days. Then you can return to your dormitory, although she has already told me twice that you must take it easy. I think she is being overcautious, but given the circumstances...” he shrugged as Martin pulled a face.

“But classes!” he objected, realizing that he, not to mention the girls, had already missed morning lessons.

“They’ve been canceled for today, so you will only be absent from them on Monday,” Albus assured him.

“But the end of term is coming up,” he protested.

“Martin, you shouldn’t worry about such things at a time like this!” said his mother.

“Minerva, our son is a Ravenclaw. He will always worry about such things,” said Albus with an understanding chuckle. “Perhaps when his year mates come to visit, he can ask one of them to take notes for him,” he suggested.

Martin nodded mutely, knowing that he could hardly ask for more than that.

“Now it is time for us to leave Martin, so that he can get some much needed rest,” said his father.

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