A Hogwarts Fanfic by Therese

Author's Note: The Hogwarts fanfic I've shared so far has been centered on Jane Tweedy, but in this story, a couple of Jane's classmates take center stage. Now would be a good time to point out that Hogwarts and the Wizarding World in which it exists belong to J.K. Rowling (as if you didn't know that), as do several of the people, including Madam Pomfrey, Madam Hooch and Professors Sprout and Flitwick (by the by, the Harry Potter Lexicon, a great reference site, says that, according to the HP trading card game, Flitwick's given name is Filius; although they say this is not exactly canon, I decided to use it here). The students, however, with the sole exception of Ludo Bagman, are all mine, and subject to my authorly whims. Rowling makes a passing reference to "dragon pox" in "Quidditch Through the Ages," and I grabbed that and ran with it. This story is rated PG, for reasons that will become apparent, and, while I'd rather not tip my hand, I think it's only fair to warn that some readers may be uncomfortable with the subject matter. Myself, I think it's cute…

Part One

Freddy Shrike sighed as he turned another page of "Minutes of the International Confederation of Wizards' Summit of 1712," and jotted another note for the essay he was supposed to be writing for his second year History class. It was snowing again, he noted, gazing out the windows of the Ravenclaw Common Room for a minute, before he forced his attention back to his work, skimming a few pages farther into the three-inch-thick tome. Across the table, Kevin Grahame had folded his arms over the book he'd been working from, and buried his head in them so that nothing was visible but his bristly, brown hair and one ear. Kevin and Freddy were the best of friends - funny, since Kevin was a Muggle-born Wizard who had come to Hogwarts without the least idea of most Magical things, and Freddy was from an old, London pure-blood family and had never been exposed to anything remotely Muggle-ish. The cultural exchange had only improved their friendship, however, and they had become inseparable. Now, Freddy couldn't resist reaching over and tickling Kevin's ear with the feathery end of his quill.
"Wake up, sleepyhead. It can't be that boring."
Kevin stirred and raised his head slightly. He had taken off his thick-framed glasses, and his brown eyes searched fuzzily for Freddy's face. "Mmph."
Surprised by his bleary look and flushed cheeks, Freddy's smile faded and he asked, "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Kevin murmured, pushing himself back in the chair. "I'm just - tired. And my head hurts," he added as an afterthought, wiping a hand over his brow. "If you don't mind… I think I'll turn in. I don't feel like doing any more tonight."
"Are you all right if I stay here?" Freddy asked. "I'm up to the debate on weights and standards for selling Jobberknoll feathers, and it's just getting exciting."
Kevin must have been tired; he usually had a laugh for even the lamest of Freddy's drolleries, but now he merely muttered, "I'm fine." Groping for his glasses, he put them on, then, climbing to his feet, he looked at the books spread on the table for a moment, as if unsure what to do with them, and Freddy assured him, "Don't worry about those, I'll take care of them."
"Thanks."
"Certain you're all right?" he asked again, as the sturdy boy staggered away from the table.
"Fine," Kevin insisted, with a vague wave of his hand, as he made for the stairs up to the boys' dormitory.

When Freddy went up to bed, some time later, he thought for a moment of checking on his friend. But Kevin's bed curtains were drawn shut, and Freddy didn't want to wake him, so he let it go. In the morning, Freddy popped up bright and early, as he liked to do, to beat the other boys into the bathroom. Washed and towelled and ready to face the day, he grabbed one of the school-issue blue terry Ravenclaw bathrobes off the stack and headed back to his dresser to put on his uniform. Kevin's bed was across from his, at the end of the room nearest the door, and Freddy noticed that his curtains were still drawn. That was odd. Kevin was usually an early-bird, too. Freddy walked over and patted the curtains with his palm.
"Come on, Kevin, time to get up," he called.
From behind the curtains came an answering groan, something like, "Uughmph…" Pulling back the drape, Freddy peeked in. Kevin was flat on his back in bed. He had kicked off the blankets, and the white cotton undershirt he had slept in was damp and clinging to him. His eyes were drooping, his wretched face was flaming red, and every bit of him that Freddy could see was covered in little green spots. Seeing Freddy, he groaned again and mumbled, "I don't feel so well…"
With a sigh, Freddy pushed back the curtains to let in the light and air. "I shouldn't wonder," he observed. "Looks like you've come down with the dragon pox."
"Is that bad?" asked Kevin, plaintively.
For the first time Freddy could remember, his normally fearless friend looked up at him with eyes that were clearly frightened. Poor chap, he realized; Kevin probably had no idea what was happening to him. Channelling the bedside manner of his Mother the Doctor, Freddy sat down on the edge of the mattress and assured him, "It's perfectly normal, nothing to worry about. It's a very common childhood disease; we've all had it."
"Have you had it?"
Freddy nodded. "When I was six. That's a more typical age for it, but I suppose it makes sense that you haven't been exposed until now. The good news is, once you've had it, you're immune, you can't get it again. The bad news is, you're going to feel miserable for a few days, but with plenty of rest and the right potions, you'll be as good as new in no time. Now, let's go see Madam Pomfrey, she'll have something to make you feel better." Reaching out for him, Freddy got a grip on Kevin's arm, and got his other hand behind his shoulders, and between the two of them, the ailing boy struggled into a sitting position. He was weak, and woozy, and was resting his weight against Freddy's slighter form, and Freddy knew there was no way he could drag poor Kevin all the way to the infirmary by himself. "I don't think you're quite ready to get up yet," he grunted, helping Kevin to lie down again. By this time, the other boys were coming back from the bathroom, and stopped to see what was wrong.
"Ugh, dragon pox!" Jonah cringed. "You look terrible."
"You've got more spots than my little brother had last year," Milo noted, amazed.
"Ehh, that must itch something awful," said Aubrey. "That's always the worst part of it, the itching, nearly drove me mad when I had it, I couldn't stop scratching, me Mum had to put these mittens on me to keep me from--"
"Will you shut up!?" Freddy snapped at them. "He feels bad enough without your help. If you want to be useful, someone go get Madam Pomfrey."
"I'll go," Aubrey volunteered, heading across the room to put on his clothes.
"Well, if you don't need us," said Milo, looking a touch affronted at having been snapped at, as Jonah finished the thought, "we'll get dressed and go on."

"I'd better get myself dressed, too," Freddy noted. "You stay there, we'll have you all taken care of in a minute, all right?"
"All right," murmured Kevin, then he reached out to Freddy as he was leaving and said, "Could I have my glasses?"
Freddy found them on his dresser and helped him get them on. "Better?"
Kevin nodded, and nestled back into the pillows to wait. Freddy looped his own curtains around the bedposts, leaving himself a clear view back from his dresser to Kevin's bed, and he kept himself where Kevin could see him while he dressed. He was sorry for poor Kevin, but he had to admit, he was rather enjoying his own feeling of importance. Freddy had always thought of Kevin as the brave one; he wasn't afraid of anything. Freddy always tried to cover up any shyness or anxiety of his own behind a cool front of smart remarks, but he knew that, between them, Kevin was the strong one. It was one of the things Freddy admired most about him. Now, all at once, he was getting to be the strong one, and he liked it. Aubrey finished dressing and went past with a, "Be right back," then the Kettlesmiths finished and left with a, "See you later." When Freddy was dressed, he went back and sat on Kevin's bed again.
"Any better?" Freddy asked him.
"A little. Helps knowing what's wrong. I thought I was going to die," he confessed, with a faint smile.
"Don't Muggles have anything like this?"
"Oh, yeah, we have measles," he considered. "But I've never had that. I had chicken pox when I was four," he added, remembering.
"Chicken pox!?" Freddy laughed at this. "What on earth is chicken pox?"
"Sort of like this, actually," Kevin admitted, now that he thought about it. "Only without the green spots. You get these blisters, though. I had this one big blister on the top of my finger that stayed there forever - gosh, don't ask me why I remember that. I had the mumps, too."
"I'm almost afraid to ask what that is," said Freddy. Funny how, even when he was sick, Kevin could still chatter like this.
"Your jaw swells up," he explained. "I think I was seven when I had that."
"And after all that, you're worried about some little thing like the dragon pox?" Freddy scolded fondly. "Phoo, this is nothing. You'll feel better in no time."

Aubrey came back shortly with Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. She took one look at Kevin and clucked, "So, we've come down with the pox, have we? I was wondering who would be first this year." Lifting his arm, she felt his pulse, then looked into his eyes. "We always have a few cases, students who haven't been exposed. Well, you're certainly not the worst I've ever seen. Come along now, onto the stretcher with you." She had brought a small pallet, which was floating near the bed. Shooing Freddy out of her way, she directed the stretcher to the bed with her wand, and deftly levitated Kevin onto it. Sick as he was, he managed a suitably impressed, "Wow!" at this feat. Another wave of her wand, and a sheet wrapped itself tightly around him, securing him snugly. Checking him over, she tucked away her wand and announced, "Off to the hospital ward," taking hold of the handles at the top of the stretcher and pushing him toward the door.
"You see, I told you, nothing to worry about," said Freddy, following them out the door and scurrying ahead to walk alongside Kevin. "Once we get to the infirmary…"
"Oh, no, young man," said Madam Pomfrey, smartly. "You are not wriggling out of your lessons that easily! I know how to treat the dragon pox without your input. Off to class with you," she waved him away, and frowned when he started to protest. "Scat!"
Giving in, Freddy patted the sheet covering Kevin's arm. "I'll see you later, all right?"
"All right. Thanks." Kevin managed a grateful smile. Freddy did stay in the passage and watch them until they turned a corner and disappeared from view, then he went down to breakfast.

Jane Tweedy and Irene Lupin were chatting over their porridge, and Freddy sat down across from them.
"You've heard about Kevin, of course," he began at once.
"Is he all right?" asked Irene.
"He'll be fine, he's just got a touch of the dragon pox."
"Dragon pox," said Jane, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I'll come down with it next."
"What about Wilkins?" Irene wondered. "Who's taking care of him?"
"Wilkins!" Freddy exclaimed. "Blast! I forgot all about him!" Wilkins was Kevin's pet rat.
"I can take care of him!" Irene practically bounced out of her chair. "I don't mind at all. He can stay with me until Kevin is better. I'll take him to classes and everything, we'll have a lovely time. Kevin won't mind, will he?" she begged.
"Not as long as you remember to give him back," said Freddy pointedly.

After breakfast, Freddy collected Wilkins and his things from Kevin's desk in the dorm and handed them over to Irene. She carried his cage and toys and rat treats up to her own dresser, and tucked the chubby brown rat into her robes, chattering blissfully to him the whole time. Jane exchanged an amused but exasperated look with Freddy over the arrangement. Despite a year and a half of assurances that he was sweet and cuddly and perfectly tame, she was still not overly fond of even the mere concept of a Pet Rat, and was not thrilled with the idea that her best friend was now packing one.
As soon as the morning's classes were over, and the rest of his fellows headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, Freddy made straight for the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey saw him come in and said at once, "Oh, so you're back, are you?"
"I'm here to see Kevin. How's he doing?"
"He is having his lunch. Shouldn't you be doing the same?" she hinted.
"I only wanted to say hello," Freddy begged. "Tell him how classes went this morning."
Madam Pomfrey compressed her lips and looked as if she were doing this against her better judgment, but said, "Bed number five. Don't stay too long."
Kevin was in the open ward, made up of a long row of beds, each surrounded by white curtains. Number five was the first one with the curtains drawn closed, beds one through four being empty at the moment. Freddy drew back the curtain at the foot of the bed and peeped in. Kevin was propped up in a half-sitting position on the pillows, and his eyes were drowsy, but he was awake. The white blankets were folded down to his waist, and he was dressed in a white muslin gown. Visible through the gown, and on his exposed neck and face, were vivid smears of orange goop.
Freddy could not surpress a chuckle as he observed, "I'd forgotten about the pumpkin salve."
Kevin's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled faintly. "Hi! Oh, I'm glad you're here," he said, as if just remembering something. "Did you check on Wilkins? I forgot all about him this morning."
"He's fine," Freddy assured him, coming into the enclosure and flicking the curtain closed behind himself. "Irene's rat-sitting, she's having the time of her life. She took him around to classes this morning and everything; Jane was grumbling about it, but Irene was afraid he'd be 'bored' up in the dorm." Freddy laughed at this.
"Gosh, I hope she gives him back," Kevin remarked.
"That's what I said," Freddy agreed. Noting the tray standing near the bed, he observed, "Mmm, nummy hospital lunch."
"Help yourself," Kevin groaned. "I'm not all that hungry."
"Oh, now, 'none of that, young man,' as my Mother would say. Got to keep your strength up if you're going to get better. Let's see what we have here." Freddy examined the tray and forced himself to sound as positive about the repast as he could. "Ox-tail soup, that's good for you. Pureed pumpkin, mmm."
"Urgh," Kevin made a face.
"Well, perhaps we can skip the pureed pumpkin," Freddy conceded; it did look rather nasty. "But you've got hot mint tea, that's good. And you like pears, don't you? And you've got some sort of jelly."
"It's not cherry, is it? I don't like cherry."
"I don't know, where's your spoon?" Freddy found it and took a tiny taste of the sweet gelatin. "Mm, no, strawberry."
"Well, that's all right, then," Kevin conceded.
"Here," said Freddy, rolling the tray aside, "let's get you set up a little better." He found the crank to raise the head of the bed, and rearranged the pillows behind Kevin's back. "How's that?"
"Thanks," Kevin got comfortable as Freddy manoeuvered the tray into place where he could reach it.
"Try your soup," he put the spoon in it and scooted it toward Kevin, "and I'll butter your bread for you."
Kevin blew on his first spoonful of soup to make certain it wasn't too hot, and laughed a bit as he watched Freddy busily scraping butter over the wedge of brown bread. "Madam Pomfrey's going to think you're after her job."
"Well, I don't see her in here doing this," Freddy sniffed, keeping his voice to a whisper. "How's the soup?"
"Hospital-y," he wrinkled his nose slightly, "but not too bad, I guess. I don't suppose they give you ice cream for the dragon pox? I had my tonsils out when I was six, and they gave me tons of ice cream, it was great."
"Tonsils?" Freddy shook his head. "You're just a walking encyclopaedia of diseases, aren't you? Mumps, Chicken Pox, Tonsils…"
The curtain was pushed aside and Madam Pomfrey said, "I thought I said 'not too long.'"
"Just helping with lunch," said Freddy.
"Mm," said Madam Pomfrey, but she didn't object. "Eat up all of that, if you can," she advised her patient. "We want to get our strength up, don't we?"
Freddy gave him a 'told you so' look at this.
Bustling around to the other side of the bed, Madam Pomfrey felt Kevin's forehead and took his pulse, while Freddy, having arranged the lunch tray to his own satisfaction, pulled up a chair and sat down. Noting this, Madam Pomfrey gave him a protesting look, but he said, "I won't stay much longer. And I won't be late to class."
"See that you're not," she advised, finishing with her patient and heading out again, pulling the curtains shut behind her.
While Kevin ate, Freddy told him what they'd done in their classes that morning. "I told all the professors where you were, and I took lots of notes; I'll help you catch up when you're feeling better," he offered. "I really missed you in potions, though."
"Why, what did you do?"
"Not 'what,' but 'with whom,'" Freddy winced, smiling. "Without you, we're back to an even number. So I had the great privilege of working with Miss Jones."
"Lucky you," Kevin grinned. "I'll bet you get better marks with her, though."
"I don't know," Freddy shrugged this off. "All I did today was hand her things and stay out of her way. Frankly, I'd rather make a botch of things with you than score points with Angharad."
"Thanks, that means a lot," Kevin cracked, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in his soup.
They chatted while Kevin ate his lunch, then Madam Pomfrey came back at last and said, "That is quite enough, young man. You will be late to class, and I shall hear from Professor Flitwick about it. Off with you, now; go on." She set about clearing away Kevin's lunch tray and noted, "You didn't eat your pumpkin."
"I told him he didn't have to," said Freddy, and Madam Pomfrey frowned at him.
"You are not running this infirmary, Doctor, much as you may think otherwise. Off to class with you now, I mean it. Go!"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," said Freddy, with a meek look that softened her frown.
"I'll see you later, all right?" Kevin said goodbye.
Freddy nodded and answered, "Get your rest, and do as Madam Pomfrey tells you." And with a last, conciliatory smile at the nurse, he went off to his afternoon classes.

As soon as his last class was over, Freddy ran to the dorm just long enough to throw his books on his bed, and headed straight for the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight when he came in, and, admittedly, he did not make much effort to look for her. The curtains were still drawn around Bed Number Five, and Freddy took the liberty of peeking in. Kevin was sleeping. Freddy hesitated for a moment; he didn't want to wake his friend, and he was certain Madam Pomfrey would disapprove of the intrusion, but he didn't want to leave, either. As quietly as possible, he slipped in, carefully overlapped the curtains behind himself, and sat down in the chair beside the bed. He would stay just a few minutes. Just in case Kevin woke up.
Candles glowed softly above the head of the bed, and lent their warmth to the cool, winter light seeping in from the distant windows. Kevin was curled on his side, facing the chair; the blankets were tucked under his arm, and he was holding a handful of the linens cuddled to his chest. His other hand lay beside the pillow, turned palm up, the sleeve of his gown pushed back to expose the underside of his wrist and arm, a curious painting of peachy skin dabbed with the orange salve that didn't quite hide the green colouring of the pox. The orange smears decorated his face, as well, like some aboriginal war paint, spotting his cheeks and criss-crossing his forehead. There was a thick blot of orange right on the top of his nose; Kevin's nose was straight, and well-formed, the broad tip neatly squared off. It matched the firm shape of his chin, which was also lined in orange. He slept mouth closed, but with his lower lip pushed out slightly. It was notably fuller than his upper lip, and ordinarily protruded a bit, anyway; Freddy wasn't certain he'd ever consciously noticed it before, but he knew it was always like that. There was one, lone, green pox just below his right eye, untouched by the salve, close enough to be partly concealed by the black lashes, short and straight, resting on his cheek. Kevin's eyes seemed larger, blanketed by their pale peach lids - or perhaps that was simply because they always looked smaller behind his thick glasses. A dab of salve had dried in the hairs of his right eyebrow, the bottom edge of a long streak across his forehead. His bristly, dark brown hair was short enough, it didn't show the lack of combing the way Freddy's longer, finer, blond hair would have, but it was a bit mussy from the pillow. There was a great deal of orange smeared thickly over the skin below Kevin's ear, and it disappeared around the back of his neck and into his gown. Freddy could see large patches on Kevin's shoulder, and chest, where the orange salve had slowly seeped through the gown and now stained it. The muslin had adhered to the salve on his shoulder in a way that caused the fabric to strain and wrinkle, and Freddy itched to peel it loose, considered it, in fact, but was afraid of waking his sleeping friend.
His friend. Even after a year and a half together, it still felt strange to him to be able to refer to someone - anyone - as "my friend." Being a Wizard was special and wonderful and Freddy never would have traded it for life as just another boring Muggle, but one of the disadvantages of being a Wizard was the lack of other Wizards your own age. He might have enlarged his social circle by attending the Common Wizarding Primary School, or by playing Wee Wizard Quidditch as his brother had, but those options had not been open to him. Freddy's class at Eggleston's Academy had numbered all of six, and that was before the abrupt departure of Ludo Bagman. Three of them were girls. Heather Lenox was probably the best of the lot; she had let him sit with her on the first train ride to Hogwarts, and she was one of the few among his childhood peers who had never made him feel weak and puny. She was pleasant enough most of the time, although she took herself very seriously, and used more big words than were really necessary; he was frankly surprised she hadn't made it into Ravenclaw, but she'd been sorted into Hufflepuff. Rebecca Rye and Thisbe Phagan had been giggly, girly, 'bestest' friends for as long as he'd known them, and they had gone into Gryffindor together - a bit of a shock, since he'd never thought of them as the 'chivalrous' types, but they'd already gotten a reputation at Eggleston's for dodging the rules when it suited them. The only other boy in the class had been that smarmy git, David Smyrl, who had gone straight to Slytherin. Smyrl hadn't been especially popular with any of them; he was tall and stiff, with suspicious slits for eyes, and a smile as genuine as Leprechaun Gold, and the only way he knew how to impress anyone was by throwing Galleons at them.
Still, Freddy reflected, he supposed he owed Smyrl some slight debt of gratitude, for the incident that had taken place after one of their earliest first-year flying lessons. Two weeks in, and still stuck in the hapless 'C' group, too humiliated to feel like joining Kevin and the rest of the jolly, laughing 'A's as they hiked merrily up the lawn after class, Freddy had hung back with Madam Hooch and offered to help put away the brooms. He already knew that a little good, old-fashioned brown-nosing was probably the only way he was going to get any points out of this subject. At the next lesson, he had stayed behind again to help gather the discarded brooms. Even though they were already in the habit of chumming around a good deal, sitting together at meals, pairing up in their classes, sharing books in the common room, Freddy was still a bit surprised when Kevin broke away from Jane and Ludo and the rest, and came jogging over to join him.
"Want a hand with that?" he offered.
Freddy's knee was still smarting from where he'd taken a clumsier-than-usual spill today, and he retorted a bit more sharply than he meant to, "I think I can manage this, thanks."
"I know you can," Kevin met his acerbity with a cheerful look. "I only thought you might not mind some company."
Anger melting under the frank warmth of Kevin's smile, Freddy murmured, "Thanks," this time in a softer tone that apologized for his sharp words.
They gathered up the brooms, eleven for each, and lugged them to the shed, where they separated, one to each end of the rack, and began placing them in the slots, working slowly toward each other. Freddy had just put up his third broom when he heard someone come in, and glanced over to see who it was. Smyrl looked more than usual like an empty-headed wooden slab, with his squinty eyes and hard-hewn features.
"Congratulations, Shrike," he leaned his weight against the rack, and chortled in a nasty way. "I think you flew three feet today."
Freddy was deliberately ignoring him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of his attention; stupid prat was only in the 'B' group and frankly hadn't much room to talk, Freddy sniffed to himself.
"Ye gods, you're pathetic," the big git was droning on. "No wonder your own brother's ashamed of you, you little Millicent, even the Mudbloods fly better than you…"
This last remark at last sparked Freddy to turn on him, but before he could snap out any sort of retort, a hand clamped down on Smyrl's blocky shoulder from behind, and jerked him around. Freddy had only a moment to register that the hand belonged to Kevin, and no more than an instant to savor the stunned, vacant look on Smyrl's face before Kevin's fist made contact with the wooden jaw.
"OW!" This was Kevin, shaking the pain out of his throbbing hand. Freddy suspected that he'd never hit anyone before, and hadn't expected it to hurt quite like that. Smyrl staggered back against the broom rack, more out of surprise than anything, and in the instant it took the bigger boy to regain his balance, Kevin whipped out his wand with his uninjured left hand and shouted the first hex he could think of. White chicken feathers began sprouting like mad out of Smyrl's ears, and over his head.
Smyrl gave a bark of alarm and shouted at Kevin, "You filthy son of a…!"
He was drowned out by another shout from the doorway, there was a quick flash, and the feathers stopped sprouting and rained to the ground like fallen leaves. Madam Hooch stood with one fist on her hip, wand in hand, and a ferocious expression on her face.
"GRAHAME!" she fixed her eagle eyes on Kevin. "TWENTY-FIVE POINTS FROM RAVENCLAW!"
Kevin's jaw dropped, and Freddy felt his own face mirror the shocked reaction. Twenty-five points, lost… He hadn't seen anyone lose nearly that many for anything yet.
"But--" Kevin stammered, weakly, "but - he was - he said…" he pointed shakily at Smyrl.
"Quiet," she commanded, in a deadly voice. "One more word from you, and I'll make it thirty points. I don't care what he said, I'll have no hex-hurling here. You two," she looked at Smyrl and Freddy, "are excused. Grahame can finish this on his own."
Smyrl shot Kevin a gloating sneer and stalked out, but Freddy lingered behind. Kevin wouldn't meet his eye. He looked so wretched, Freddy felt miserable for him, wanted to tell him it was all right, no one would blame him, they'd make up the points some other way… "Come along, Shrike," Madam Hooch pointed him out the door. "You're finished here."

Freddy did not go far, and when Madam Hooch emerged from the shed, he made a dart at her. Before she could shoo him away or shut him up, he blurted, "It wasn't his fault! Smyrl called him a Mudblood!"
He thought - or imagined - that he saw a tiny glint of sympathy flicker in her left eye, but she said, crisply, "That is no excuse. He has to learn - you all have to learn that you cannot go about pointing your wands at each other at the drop of an insult."
Freddy sighed and bit his lip. She was right, he knew - but it was still so unfair! With a bad feeling that any further argument would only lead to his losing more points for the house, himself, he let the matter drop, and trudged up to the castle. Plopping down on the steps, he propped his elbows on his knees and waited for Kevin. Pretty soon, the stocky figure came out of the shed; even from this distance, Freddy could see the way Kevin's head was hanging as Madam Hooch dismissed him. The brown-haired boy walked up the lawn with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders slumped despondently; his eyes were fixed on his shoes, and he looked surprised when he came upon Freddy waiting on the steps.
"I'm really sorry," said Kevin, eyes blinking behind his glasses. "I never meant to lose all those points, but I couldn't just stand there and listen to him--"
"It's all right," Freddy assured him earnestly. "It wasn't your fault."
Kevin dropped onto the steps near him and put his chin in his hands. "I didn't even get the hex right. I meant to make him break out in warts."
"I don't know, I thought the feathers were a nice touch." When Kevin looked over and met Freddy's wry smile, he couldn't keep his own mouth from curling up in pleasure. Freddy reached out, a bit tentatively, and patted his shoulder lightly. "Don't feel bad about it. It was Smyrl's fault anyway, for calling you a Mudblood."
"A what?" Kevin's head tilted in that curious way of his.
"Oh, don't make me say it again, I don't want to. You've heard it enough, and you don't deserve it."
"Heard what? No, honestly, Smyrl called me something?"
Freddy laughed at him, perplexed. "That's why you socked him in the jaw, remember?"
"No, it's not. I socked him because he was picking on you."
Freddy stared at him, unable to speak as the words sank in. Kevin had turned his face away and had his chin in his hands again. "You…" Freddy's voice cracked. "You did that because… for me?"
"He was picking on you," said Kevin again, not looking at him.
"You - you didn't have to do that." His voice was soft, and uncertain.
"He was being a big prat!" Kevin insisted, this time looking over at him.
"I know, but…" Freddy shook his head slightly. "I ignore the big prats now. I've gotten used to it."
"What do you mean, 'used to it'?" the other boy challenged.
"The words. Puny, pathetic," Freddy shrugged one shoulder as he averted his face. "You name it. I am puny and pathetic, I know it."
"You are not!" Kevin got to his feet, standing over him with fists clenched. "Don't ever say that!" Crouching on the steps in front of him, he got back down on Freddy's level, and the slight boy was startled by the intensity in his brown eyes. "You're - you're - great! You're clever, and - and - fun, and nice. I like you. A lot. And - and, well, I'd like to think that we're friends. And I don't let big prats like David Smyrl pick on my friends."

Freddy had never felt so wonderful in his life. No one had ever stood up for him that way before. Sometime during their first year, he had finally confessed to Kevin, "You're the first real friend I've ever had," and he'd been shocked when Kevin had grinned with delight at this and admitted, "You're my first real friend, too." He had assumed Kevin must have had tons of friends in his Muggle school, but the stocky boy had insisted that it wasn't true, that he'd always been looked on as 'weird,' and had never been especially chummy with anyone. Freddy supposed this was because Kevin had been a Wizard among Muggles, even though no one had known it yet. He'd always been taught that most Muggles didn't like Wizards, distrusted and feared them, and Kevin had admitted to a few childhood incidents of accidental magic. One time, he'd been in the schoolyard, watching some other boys play football. ("Weren't you playing?" Freddy had asked, and Kevin had answered, "Gosh, no, I was never any good at sports, I was always the last one chosen for anything." "But, you're so good at flying!" he had said, and Kevin had laughed and reminded him, "There's no flying in football.") One of Kevin's schoolmates - Stuart, he had called him - had accidentally kicked the ball straight at a window, and surely would have broken it, but Kevin had jumped up and run for it ("I can't run very fast, either," he'd pointed out). To everyone's shock, the football had slowed drastically in flight and ended up drifting harmlessly down into Kevin's hands. "No one knew what had happened - I didn't know, either - but they all thought it was weird. That I was weird," he'd corrected with a sigh. "And I'd thought for certain Stuart would like me after that - I mean, he would have gotten in all sorts of trouble if he'd broken that window. You'd think he'd have said thank you, at least."
Muggles were idiots, thought Freddy now, watching Kevin sleep. Gosh, he pondered, appropriating his friend's favorite expression, how could anyone not like Kevin? He was friendly, and kind, and clever, and talented, and brave, and good looking…
"You!"
It was only a whisper, but it made Freddy jump, and he turned a guilty face toward Madam Pomfrey, who was standing at the foot of the bed with a vial of blue syrup and a large spoon. With a weary compression of her lips, she exhaled through her nose, then whispered, "The patient is resting."
"I know," Freddy whispered back. "I'm not bothering him. I only wanted to sit for a minute."
"Honestly, haven't you anywhere better to be?" she challenged.
"Not really, no," he admitted, his blue eyes appealing to her.
"It is nearly time for dinner," she informed him. "Shoo."
It couldn't be that late, Freddy marveled; surely he hadn't been sitting there that long, just watching Kevin sleep. But Madam Pomfrey was holding the spoon as if she intended to knock him on the head with it, and he got up from the chair and walked softly toward the curtain. He had one hand on it, holding it open, when Kevin groaned and stirred, and he paused and looked back. The brown eyes - they did look big without his glasses - strained a bit when they found his face, but Kevin's mouth curled in a sleepy smile and he murmured, "Freddy, hi…"
"Time for your medicine," Madam Pomfrey declared, filling the spoon.
Kevin grunted unhappily at this pronouncement as he rolled onto his back and struggled to raise his shoulders. He glanced in Freddy's direction again, though, and begged, "Don't go yet."
"He's been sitting up here long enough," said the nurse. "He has his dinner to get. Open wide, now." She shoved the spoon in Kevin's mouth, and he made a horrible face as he swallowed the blue syrup. "Uugh."
Freddy ventured a step or two nearer the bed, however, and waited for Kevin to finish his medicine. Madam Pomfrey corked the vial of syrup and tucked it into a pocket in her nurse's robes. She cranked up the head of Kevin's bed into a more comfortable position, and he yawned and stretched as he got himself settled. "Oh," something occurred to him, and he held out a hand to stop Freddy from going. "If you're coming back later, would you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"On my desk, in the dorm, I've got 'Heir of Duvanyi,'" he referred to the Ambrose Armstrong adventure he was in the midst of reading. "Would you bring it to me? Don't lose my bookmark."
"I'll bring it up after dinner," Freddy nodded, then glanced at Madam Pomfrey and added, "If that's all right."
"After dinner," she impressed upon him, and waved the spoon again. "Out, now."
Freddy waved at Kevin, who smiled back at him, and took himself at last to the Great Hall.

To be continued…