Brilliance

"Madam Pomfrey!" James opened the door of the infirmary for us with a bang and I rushed in, Remus still in my harms. I was shouting at the top of my lungs. "Madam Pomfrey!" The nurse appeared from behind a drawn curtain glaring at everyone (namely me and James) who dared to disturb the silence of her sacred halls. Her territory. It didn't last for long though. As soon as the Hogwarts matron spied Remus she was by our side asking what had happened. She had always had a soft spot for him.

"Monkshood," James stated in a whisper. I guess he didn't want whoever was behind the curtain to overhear. He's always had more common sense than me, I admit. "He was working with it in Herbology." Madam Pomfrey clucked angrily even as she helped me put Remus on a bed. She had clucking down to an art, you know. The most common clucks were sympathetically, angrily, annoyed, and concerned. It was quite awe inspiring how she managed to convey her moods with them so easily but I'm getting off topic again.

She didn't even try to shoo us off, all of her concentration was on Remus. A fact that worried me greatly - that she didn't tell us to leave, I mean. It meant that it was so serious that she had forgotten about us. James and me stood there watching as she checked our friend's heartbeat, breathing and what not. Taking out her wand she proceeded to perform all kinds of spells. One produced the image of an instrument that looked somewhat like a thermometer, only it was colour-coded. She let out a gasp when it turned a deep burgundy red. I guessed that this was a bad sign but didn't ask.

In a matter of seconds she had Accioed a potion - green and gooey it was and it looked decidedly unpleasant. I got a bad premonition at that point. It turned out to be true. She poured out two spoonful of that stuff and fed it to him. I gagged but Remus didn't notice a thing all the while. He was dead to the world. If it wasn't for his laboured breathing I'd've said he was. After putting the spoon on the bedside table Madam Pomfrey took notice of us again. At first, I thought she would send us away and I prepared for a heated debate. Only, it didn't come. Instead she told James to draw the curtains around the bed and pressed a bowl into my hand. Not good, definitely not good.

I somehow have the tendency to blame myself for everything that goes wrong, maybe it's because it is mostly my fault when something goes awry. Awry, of course, only in the opinion of others, like when Uncle Hephestos swallowed my cousin's goldfish. I found that hilarious and not awry. Naturally, they blamed me for the whole thing but then it was my doing, too. After being through the ordeal I will soon describe, however, I was certain I had been penitent enough for my earlier inattention. And I was only the watching party, I might add. I didn't want to know how Remus had felt.

As I said earlier he had been out and dead to the world but as soon as it started he was wide awake. It would have been better if he had remained in the Neverlands, though, I think it is impossible to stay unconscious when, er, stuff - phlegm, vomit, etc. - comes out of literally almost every hole: mouth, ears, eyes, nose. The bowl I was holding didn't really prevent the sheets from getting dirty, only from getting dirtier. Even the floor suffered. The culprit in this case, however, was James. By the end I was feeling decidedly ill, as well, but managed to suppress it for the sake of the House elves - and my dignity. (I refrained from teasing James about the fact that he, who was standing nearly two meters away, had got sick and I, who was in the very thick of things, hadn't puked my guts out. Well, refrained from it when Remus was there.) I won't go into much more detail, you get the picture, anyway.

After the 'de-poisoning' Madam Pomfrey decided to keep the school's local werewolf in the hospital wing for the night. He had been exhausted after the whole ordeal. As both, James and I, wore slightly dirtied clothes - isn't understatement gear? - we left and headed for our dormitory to take a shower and change. After about five minutes under the assault of hot water what I had said to Benzen hit me like a ton of bricks. I thus resolved to drowning myself. James literally had to drag me out of the shower stall. It's one thing to mentally tell your teacher to fuck off but to do it for real... I was going to be expelled! James naturally couldn't offer any reassurances and didn't try. We both knew I was right. I went through the motion of dressing mechanically. James stared out of the window. I didn't want to face the end of my academic career just yet so I shooed Minx, James trusty cat, off of my bed and slumped down on it. "I'm going to be expelled," I repeated and put my pillow over my head. James noticed and wrenched it away before I could suffocate myself.

"You're being overly dramatic," he grunted. I stared at him. "Oh yeah? Tell me again when it's *your* life that's going down the drain," I snapped and looked away. That didn't keep me from hearing him take some calming breaths. "Listen, you won't die -"

"I just won't have the chance of getting a decent job," I finished bitterly. I had never noticed that the curtains and the bed sheets were of different material. Interesting.

"You could switch to a Muggle school." A snort escape my lips. James was well aware that I knew about as much about Muggles as they did about wizards. Being pure-blooded has downsides, too, and while my family wasn't particularly prejudiced we never much discussed Muggle things, either.

Peter came in at that moment. It gave me the chance to hastily wipe at my eyes. Some of the water from my wet hair must have run down my face.

"How's Remus?" Glad for a distraction I told him the abridged version. I wasn't in the mood to be confronted with a sick Peter or to annoy James by recounting his less than Gryffindorish behaviour in the face of an ill comrade. While I did Peter deposited our bags in front of us and Remus' at his bed. It puzzled me for a moment how he managed to carry them all before I realised that there is indeed something like a Levitation charm. So much about being pure-blooded. Maybe the transition into the *other* world wouldn't be so hard.

I remained motionless for a good few minutes watching Peter emptying his robe pockets and dropping their contents on the floor. Obviously, he was looking for something but I couldn't figure out what and didn't really feel much like asking. Suddenly he slapped his forehead.

"Urg, I almost forgot. Benzen wants to see you in Dumbledore's office, as soon as possible."

No surprise there. I wanted to keep the git waiting for a bit, just to annoy him, it couldn't really get any worse, anyhow, but James insisted on hurrying and so, hardly three minutes after Pipsqueak had made his announcement, we stood before the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. For reasons that weren't quite clear to me James had been ordered to appear, as well, or so Peter had implied.

So, like countless times before, we gazed at that ugly beast of stone and like before we didn't know the password and thus had to choose between waiting till somebody who could let us in came along (I was all for that one) or rattling off the names of various sweets in hope of guessing correctly. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of our hands as McGonagall approached, a strangely blank expression on her face. Hurrying along behind her was not Benzen, as one might have suspected, but Madam Pomfrey.

Did they expect me to put up a fight fatally wounding Benzen, or what? Admittedly, I wouldn't have minded landing a good blow on the bastard's nose - and various other places while I was at it - but the business with the Hogwarts' matron went a bit too far in regard to damage control. Or was she here for me? But why would I need a nurse? They surely would not flog me or would they? It would be preferable to getting the ax; on the other hand if they gave the task to Benzen then maybe not. I had no time to further ponder this question, however. The deputy Headmistress had ushered us up the stairs and into Dumbledore's office in a matter of seconds.

The tension in the air was tangible. Most of it radiated off of Benzen who was glaring furiously at Dumbledore, even as the aged Professor put a sherbot lemon in his mouth with gusto, ignoring the proverbial daggers sent his way. The Headmaster, I noticed, was dressed as ludicrous as ever but somehow I couldn't find the strength in me to crack a smile at the tap dancing camels on his dark green robes. Sitting down behind his desk - he had politely risen when we had come in - Dumbledore invited us all to take a seat. Most of us obliged him but Benzen remained standing in his corner, looking for all the world like a sulking child.

Absolute silence reigned then and I wondered if I was supposed to say something. And why hadn't Benzen opened his gob, yet? Surely, he must have been anxious as hell to gloat in the face of my imminent expulsion? Dumbledore cleared his throat and my full attention snapped back to him.

"If you don't mind I would like to reconstruct the events of the past hour with your help?" I guessed that this was my cue to begin. Well, I certainly wouldn't go down without at least getting Benzen in trouble, as well, seeing as he had risked Remus' life for petty revenge. James intervened though and began to tell "the story of an hour" before I could speak up and exaggerate Benzen's role (not that there was much to exaggerate but James did most probably recount what had happened in a more objective way than I would have).

When he was done Dumbledore asked Madam Pomfrey to make a report on Remus' condition. She delivered it in a clinical tone but her concern for Remus and the anger at Benzen were obvious, nevertheless. I wholeheartedly agreed.

"Had they brought him to me only five minutes later I wouldn't have been able to help him, anymore," she finished. My heart almost stopped a second time this day. I hadn't known it was that bad. Next to me James made a strange gurgling sound and I didn't need to see his face to know that it would be as white as a sheet. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked quite calm and composed, as he always did. He even had the accustomed twinkle in his eyes and suddenly I understood what was going on and I had to bite my tongue and clutch the arms of my chair for otherwise I might have jumped up and kissed the man.

"Considering these facts I find that young Mr. Black's behaviour may be excused, though it certainly does not bear repetition," here he stared at me intently and I quickly nodded my agreement," and thus must result in appropriate punishment. A week's worth of detention should suffice."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Dumbledore's word is literally law, the only thing missing really was a hammer in his hand and he might as well have been a judge delivering a sentence over an unruly citizen, the way he looked - but I'm babbling again.

Anyway, the whole affair must have irked Benzen greatly. I had it all pictured in my mind. Benzen red-faced and spluttering digesting what I had said, then raging to my classmates that I was going to be expelled. Somewhere in the middle of it he must have realised what it meant. His face had undoubtedly lit up and he surely almost danced his way up to Dumbledore's office. With glee he would then have informed the Headmaster that I had told him to fuck off, a crime worthy of expulsion. Dumbledore then most certainly wanted to know what had happened exactly. Benzen would have tried to leave out his role but his boss had looked right through it, had made him tell everything. The git's face had fallen as he'd realised that Dumbledore was on my side, and he'd fumed, and fumed, and fumed, up to the point when he was glaring murderously at the Headmaster while I entered the office.

There was no way in hell, Benzen wouldn't rave and rant and discriminate me in future lessons but he couldn't possible harm me for this episode, anymore. "De eadem re non est bis iudicandum" - there mustn't be two trials about the same occurrence or something (my Latin rather sucks).

But anyway, to quote Hagrid, "Great man, Dumbledore!"