My Mentor, the Marauder

Chapter Three -- Accident

*

"What are you doing here? The library closed twenty minutes ago."

"It did? I'm sorry, Madam Pince, I didn't hear anything."

"Get up to your dormitory this instant!" The librarian brandished a feather duster at Elinor, who fled.

The castle was getting darker by the minute. Elinor knew Hufflepuff Hall was on the third floor, not far from the Astronomy Tower. Unnerved by the librarian's terse manner, she forgot to leave from the library's first-floor exit; Elinor was on the ground floor, surrounded by unfamiliar portraits and rooms. She wandered the halls, looking for something familiar, anything that would tell her where she was: the Great Hall, the Grand Staircase, something. She felt very small. And it was cold here.

Elinor passed through a shaft of moonlight that flooded the corridor. She jumped, for she saw movement over to her left. Elinor peered through the darkness, then took a step back. Her own face, paler than usual, stared back at her from a mirror. Her dark eyes looked huge, and no wonder; she was getting scared out here. She was freezing, so she chafed her upper arms with her hands.

She didn't want to scream like a baby for a teacher, and asking for directions could get Hufflepuff penalized. What was being caught out of bounds at night worth? Ten, maybe twenty points? She doubted a teacher would be interested in an explanation, but she was determined to try it if she came across one.

Perhaps if a friendly ghost came by ... "Where's the Fat Friar when I need him?" Elinor muttered. Or even Nearly Headless Nick or the Grey Lady, they could at least tell her where the Astronomy Tower was, and she'd be able to find her way to Hufflepuff Hall from there. The Bloody Baron scared her half to death, though. He was so mean-looking.

There! Elinor knew where she was now. She ran for the Grand Staircase, knowing she was about five minutes from being safe in her dormitory. Up the stairs ...

What --

Her right ankle twisted in a burst of pain.

The terrifying sense of falling, having nothing to hold onto --

Her nose bashed against one of the stairs. Elinor gasped for breath. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. She scrambled to pull herself out, but her little fingers couldn't find enough of a purchase on the time-worn steps. At least she wasn't slipping any further in.

Yet.

Be calm

, she reminded herself. Mum and Dad wouldn't want her to panic. Merlin, she hurt. Tears flooded her eyes. Elinor pressed her nose against her upper sleeve, trying to stop the bleeding, but afraid to release her unsteady grasp on the stairs. One of her feet -- the one that didn't hurt -- was on the solid part of the staircase, as were her hands and head. I can do this, she decided. She tensed her good leg and her arms, determined to get herself out of here.

"Ooohh, what have we here?"

Elinor looked up, terrified. One week in the castle, but she knew that voice already. Silvery white, Peeves the poltergeist floated upside-down in the air, two steps above her. He grinned. "Ickle Firstie," he chortled. "Stuck in a stair. What happens to Firsties who are out of bounds after hours?" He zoomed forward until his face was inches from hers. "They gets in troooooouble."

Elinor's voice stuck in her throat. She'd never been so scared. He'd get a prefect or a teacher, and then she'd lose points for Hufflepuff in her first week. I wanted a ghost, not a poltergeist! Peeves, please, help me, pull me out, or leave me alone ...

Peeves held up his hand. Something was dangling from it, though Elinor really couldn't tell what it was in the dark. "Know what this is, Firstie?" He dropped it on her hand. It crawled across her fingers. She whimpered and flung the spider away. Peeves laughed and dropped another one on her head. She started to reach up to get it off her, but she slipped further into the hidden fissure. Elinor gasped, tears of rage and fright leaking down her face.

The poltergeist flew up in the air, looped around, seemingly in delight, then came to an abrupt stop in front of her face again. He tweaked her nose, hard. She squeaked in pain and terror. "Got your conk," he jeered. Peeves deposited three more spiders on Elinor and several more on the stairs, near her hands, but she was too frightened to move now. He seemed to realize that he'd gotten all the reaction out of her that he was going to get. He drifted up the stairs, calling spookily, "Firsties get in troooooouble ..."

Now she was actually hoping he was going to find a teacher; better to get detention than to be at the mercy of the poltergeist again. Her teeth chattered.

Her breath echoed in the dark hall. The dark was crushing in on her. The air was thickening, she drew it in with great, shuddering gasps. Her hands were shaking so badly she was going to lose her grip on the solid stairs, she didn't know what was beneath her. If I let go, how far will I fall? The blackness was smothering her, breathing was getting harder, everything hurt now, her body felt like it was going to shatter. The room seemed to turn liquid, black ghosts drifting in her vision, or like she was watching the forest through a rainy windowpane.

Sound. Footsteps, breath that was not her own. Elinor tried to call out; she couldn't make her voice work. But whoever it was saw her.

She caught sight of his face first. Fair as a ghost, plain almost to the point of homely, his head seemed to float in the darkness. Shaggy brown hair gleamed in the moonlight as he approached. He was tall as any adult in the castle, but too young to be a teacher. A prefect's badge gleamed on his chest, above the Gryffindor patch.

A look of concern crossed his face. "Merlin," he breathed. "What is going on?" He knelt in front of Elinor and pressed a handkerchief to her bleeding nose. "Here, hold that so I can get you out of there," he urged. Trembling, she obeyed. Large hands gripped her under her arms, and Elinor was lifted out of the trick stair. She clutched at the prefect, shaking all over. "It's all right now, you can go to your dormitory," he murmured. He set her on her feet and let go. She wobbled, panic and her injured ankle disabling her. "Whoa," he exclaimed, grabbing her again. "Can you walk?"

She shook her head. "Okay, here we go." He bent down and gathered the girl in his arms. "The Hospital Wing isn't far, Madam Pomfrey will have you healed in no time." He started to climb the stairs. "I'm Remus, by the way. And you are?" Elinor just burrowed her head against his shoulder and clutched at his neck. "Okay, Miss Hufflepuff, you're going to have to let me go a little, I need to breathe if I'm to get you there in one piece," he said, his voice a little strained.

He was lying when he'd said the Hospital Wing wasn't far; even in her panicked state, she knew it took at least ten minutes to make their way there. For the first time in her life, she was glad that she was shorter than most of her classmates, and so thin; elsewise such a long trek, carrying her all the way, would be exhausting. As it was, she was amazed he didn't have to sit down and rest.

Remus finally turned around and elbowed his way into the infirmary. "Madam Pomfrey," he called.

The nurse came into the room a moment later, tying an apron about her waist. "Remus? What happened?"

"She fell into that not-there step in the Grand Staircase." He set the girl on a bed. "I'll just ..." He was interrupted by Elinor clutching at him. "It's okay, Madam Pomfrey's here, you're going to be fine."

Eyes huge, she didn't let go of his hand. Please don't leave me.

The nurse smiled. "Perhaps you should sit down, Remus."

He sighed and obeyed, sitting on the edge of Elinor's bed, holding her hand. It was dwarfed between his huge palms. "I'm going to examine her, it won't take long," Madam Pomfrey continued. She bent over Elinor, forcing the girl to look at her. "I need you to relax, child, so I can find out what's wrong." She slowly ran her hands over the first-year's face, pausing at the nose. "Not broken," she murmured. As soon as the nurse broke eye contact, her expert hands searching the girl for injuries, Elinor looked at Remus again. He smiled encouragingly.

When Madam Pomfrey reached Elinor's right ankle, she gasped in pain and clutched at Remus. Though surprised, he gently put his arms around her as she hung on to him. She felt the soft stubble on his chin brush her cheek as he murmured reassuring nothings: "You're going to be all right ... just a moment and you'll be fine."

Elinor's heart thudded in her chest. How silly was she, that she was aware that Remus was a boy, and it wasn't a bad thing that she was hugging this boy? Especially when she hurt so much?

This was really weird.

She felt a sharp pain in her ankle, and she cried out. "That's the first sound she's made since I found her," Remus murmured over Elinor's head.

Madam Pomfrey let go of Elinor's leg. "She's healed, but she needs a potion to help her rest and recover properly. And she needs to stay off that ankle tonight." She walked to her office.

Remus made sure Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking, then reached into his pocket. He pushed something into Elinor's hand. "Here, take this. Save it for after, it'll keep you from tasting the potion all night. They're always atrocious." Not really seeing what it was, she grabbed it and tucked it into her shirt pocket.

"Here we are," Madam Pomfrey said, emerging from her office, goblet in hand. She handed it to Elinor. "Drink it all down, it's good for you." She turned and conjured a basin of water, busied herself with soaking a small face cloth in it.

Remus caught Elinor's eye and held his nose, nodded. The girl pinched her own and put the goblet to her lips.

He wasn't lying; the potion was vile. But as the daughter of a doctor and a healer, she'd been taught over and over that enduring a bitter medicine for a few moments was better than a slow healing, or no healing at all. She gulped it down, coughed.

"Good girl," Madam Pomfrey murmured. She used a warm, damp cloth to clean the blood away, then wiped the girl's face clean. Elinor was already groggy, her eyelids were heavy, but Remus was still there, smiling at her ...

*

Elinor woke to the sun blazing full in her face. Her mouth felt like it was lined with cotton, and her head ached. She sat up, not knowing where she was. A glass of water was on her bedside table; she drank it down in one go.

Once she had finished the water, she remembered a little better. Peeves, the staircase, that prefect ... what was his name? Remus. No boy had ever been so nice to her. But then again, he'd had to be nice -- he was a prefect, after all.

She burped a little, and tasted last night's disgusting potion. Elinor's clothes were folded neatly on the table nearby. She fished through the pockets and found what Remus had given her the night before. It was small and square, and wrapped in silvery paper. She unwrapped it. A piece of chocolate slipped through her fingers and fell into her lap. She took a bite.

He was right, it helped.

***