There's A Hero Closed

Ghosts have accumulated within the moonlit halls of Hogwarts as soon as Simon Kincaid emerged in the Ground Floor with Mamori Anezaki in his arms. They are such gossipmongers, as the lack of activities to do around the castle did limit the action that they believe should take place in their otherwise mundane lives. Normally, it would irritate Aurelia; however, in these types of situations, the news spreading faster like wildfire and possibly alerting the professors in the process would save a lot of time. More authorities, the better. Aurelia knew it—she should have informed Professor Caradoc Browne, the Head of Hufflepuff House, as soon as she found several unlabelled potions hidden deliberately in the nooks and crannies of the Hufflepuff Common Room.

She knew it.

She knew it.

Someone had smuggled those unlabelled potions in the Hufflepuff Common Room, the intentions unknown, and the worst part of it is that Aurelia chose not to do anything about it. How could she have exhibited bystander behaviour when it is the very thing that plagues society as of today, which she very much despised? Imbecile. The young badger had clucked her tongue several times more than she could count; the fear and the urgency of the situation made her forget her routine count of the stairs and the steps she took to arrive at a certain location. It is mind-numbing, but her mind worked tirelessly regardless. She had failed to notice the tiredness it should feel climbing such a flight of stairs, her mind working on several questions, such as:

Who smuggled those mysterious potions? What are their intentions? It must be a Hufflepuff. What is that specific mysterious brew?

Aurelia had read the entirety of the Magical Drafts and Potions and never came across such a brew. Not that she doesn't trust her memory; it is actually excellent—but it could either be found in the potion textbooks of older years, perhaps the information is locked somewhere in the encasement of the Restricted Section, or she did miss something. However, why wouldn't it make such a terrible impression on Aurelia? Such a promising and dangerous potion could have snatched every department of her brain. It would have smacked her with the reality that even if potions made wonders, if one bears ill intentions, potions could be utilised for intentionally harming others. Not this way. She could have retained that information in another way.

But not this way.

Her deep brown eyes switched from the stairs towards Mamori's pink hair. It wasn't even long ago before she admired the silkiness of it, the colour, the length in the Wizarding Schools' Potions Championship last year, their chess match last month, or in every other day she saw him in their classes or in the Hufflepuff Common Room, whenever he sat there in the yellow canary armchairs just to relax and chat idly with other badgers while she read books and/or did homework in the other corner. Now though, his candyfloss-coloured hair swayed as Simon made his urgent and hurried steps, Mamori's head lolling marginally as though he was already dead. Her heart pounded a little harder after she came to such a horrifying assumption. Her knees wobbled, and she almost stumbled when she took a halted step as though the world went still on her end.

Mamori Anezaki is not dead.

They barged into the Hospital Wing, and the young Hufflepuff witch actually hoped that Nurse Barnes had woken up by the commotion. They should be used to this; this is supposed to be a natural occurrence within the confines of the Hospital Wing. She rushed to the side of the bed as soon as the dhampir former prefect laid Mamori down on one of the empty beds. The pink-haired badger is sweating, his face no longer contorted into something that indicated that he was experiencing awful pain, his body similar to a ragdoll. She aimed her index finger over his nostrils, and when he subtly breathed out, Aurelia let out an audible sigh of immense relief, the easing of her muscles spreading throughout her body, eventually giving out before she gripped the edge of the night table for support.

This is only the calm before the storm, of course.

When she was anxious like this and unsure of what to do with her hands, Aurelia tended to bite her nails. She stopped herself, as even if the young badger had cast a Scouring Charm to rid Mamori's vomit from her hands, it did not drive away the stink at all. She attempted to hold his hand only to retract it, as she could feel his hot temperature inches away. He is sweating; his body is trying its hardest to cool him down. He's paler than usual too. Aurelia swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Perhaps she could... What could she do? She is merely a first-year; she must have read their textbooks in their entirety, and she would not be able to help in any way. She felt like tugging her curls in frustration.

When Ruth moved away from Mamori's bed, she watched as she ambulated towards the next occupied bed. Her deep brown eyes widened, as she knew this boy. He is also a Hufflepuff who was issued detention right in front of her for pouring potato flakes on his cousin's bed, the notorious Hufflepuff who sold his items for unreasonable and ridiculous prices. She slowly approached, and she immediately sympathised when he was still covered in dried, obsidian goo, his body also rigid. No one even bothered to clean him up? She retrieved her black walnut wand from her long, raven curls—the wand helps to put it up in a bun. With a slow and graceful finesse, she waved her wand in a slow S movement. “Scourgify,” she repeated the incantation on his face, on his Hufflepuff robes, and on his arms. The obsidian vomit had disappeared, as though it was never there in the first place. Aurelia reached out to feel if the boy was still breathing, the hot breath sending a wave of relief through her entire body.

This should also mean that there must be other Hufflepuff students convulsing right about now, unfound, and perhaps dying. The young badger swallowed another lump forming in her throat, trying to brush away the horrible thoughts that emerged in her mind. She glanced at Simon, who was rummaging in the cupboards perhaps for books or antidotes, before glancing at the Nurse's Office. Her deep brown eyes squinted, she pondered the thought of knocking, or perhaps breaking it down. Where is the Nurse when they needed her the most? She turned to the boy in front of her again, similar to a ragdoll just like Mamori looked like right about now. Tentatively reaching for the boy's hand, she hissed at his temperature because as expected, he is also terribly hot to feel.

“...Perhaps we should help cool him down, wet a towel, and wipe it on his face and arms?” Aurelia offered to Ruth, her voice toned down to a minimum. “The nurse is nowhere to be found anyway.”