Rough Night

The day to leave Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays had finally arrived. A light-green lamp turned on automatically as Quinton walked into the dorm bathroom in his pyjamas. He stretched out his arms while yawning, only to pause after noticing George by the toilet. George was lying on the floor with his head resting against the basin. His long matted hair was draped over his vomit-stained face as he slept. George was still in his uniform, implying he hadn't been to bed last night.

Somewhat concerned, Quinton walked over to George and gave him a gentle push. George grunted slightly but didn't wake up.

"Is that George?"

Quinton turned around and saw his cousin entering the bathroom. Grant walked past Quinton and crouched down. He brushed George's hair aside and nodded after seeing his face.

"Thought so", Grant looked up at Quinton, "what's wrong with him?"

Quinton shrugged his shoulders, "don't know. Did you see him go to bed last night?"

"No, did you?", Grant responded.

Quinton shook his head.

Grant turned back to George and gave him a poke, "he looks a bit like uncle Neal after a few shots. Do you think he's drunk?"

"Don't talk stupid. He's eleven, like us. There is no way he has been drinking. Where could he have gotten the alcohol?", Quinton scoffed.

"I don't know, but he sure looks drunk", Grant insisted while prodding George's face.

Quinton grabbed onto Grant's pyjama collar and pulled him back, "leave him alone. He's probably sick or something. We should go and get Professor Snape."

Grant pushed Quinton away, "you're joking, right? Professor Snape hates George. Everyone knows that from potion class. It's why he sits at the back with those Gryffindors."

"It's better than just leaving him here", Quinton rebutted.

The cousins both turned to George, neither with a good solution. They knew George had been living rough for the past few months and they didn't want to make life any harder for him. After Theodore's meltdown and the troll fiasco, they couldn't imagine how difficult his life had become. Getting Snape would probably get George in more trouble. Especially if Grant was right and George had been drinking.

Also... the cousins had their own motives. They didn't want to talk to Snape if they could avoid it. They had their fair share of run-ins with that miserable git and they would probably end up with detention too. They didn't want to miss their breakfast, they were pretty hungry after all. So running for help was pretty much off the table. The idea of just leaving George was seeming more viable by the second.

Grant finally made up his mind, "how about we pour some water on his face? If he stays asleep, we'll leave him and come back after breakfast. Sound good?"

"Agreed", said Quinton while walking out of the bathroom.

He came back a few seconds later with a big copper cauldron. Quinton placed the cauldron in the sink and run the taps. Grant just waited in the corner but started to feel a little uneasy after watching the taps for a minute. He walked over to the sink and saw the cauldron was nearly full. To his cousin's dismay, Grant immediately turned off the taps.

Quinton gave Grant a push, "what are you doing that for? It isn't full yet."

Grant pushed back, "we're trying to wake George up, not drown him. Plus, it's going to weigh a ton full of water."

"Oh... right."

Quinton looked down, there were probably a couple of gallons in the cauldron. It looked heavy. He grabbed the handle, pulled, and realised he'd made a mistake.

Grant grabbed the handle with a smug smile, "do you need a hand, oh noodle-armed cousin of mine?"

Quinton batted off Grant's hand, "back off, Grant. I've got this. You would just get in the way."

As naturally as he could, Quinton lifted the cauldron out of the sink. He tried to hide how much he was struggling, but Grant's evergrowing smile suggested he might have failed. Quinton slowly inched forward while praying that his cramping fingers didn't lose grip. Although it came at the price of his finger's circulation, Quiton managed to reach George. All he needed to do now was pour the cauldron.

Grant did have a point, Quinton didn't want to pour all the water over George. However, he might not have a choice. It was hard enough just holding onto the cauldron, let alone tilting it. Still, he had to do it or Grant would never let him live this down. Quinton held his breath, mustered his strength, and began to pour the cauldron. Or at least that was what he intended to do. Instead, Quinton's fingers suddenly lost grip and he dropped the cauldron.

To Quinton's and Grant's horror, the cauldron fell directly onto George's head. With a loud bang that sounded like a church bell, the copper bounced off George's skull. Then the cauldron hit the tiled ground with another equally loud bang. The two gallons of water splashed everywhere, including over Grant and Quinton. Although their pyjamas were soaked, the cousins hardly noticed. They were far too busy reeling in shock at what they'd just done.

"Oh god, you killed George", gasped Grant.

Quinton froze while Grant ran over to George and reached for his slumped head. Once he brushed George's hair aside, Grant was relieved to not find any cuts or bruises. Surprisingly, there wasn't a single mark on George's head. However, George was still unconscious. As far as Grant was concerned, there was no way George hadn't gotten off unscathed. He must have gotten a concussion at the minimum.

Grant's body inspection was halted once he felt something moving under George's robe. It was small, fast, and desperately avoiding Grant's hand. He assumed it was a rat. Grant almost caught it but panicked when he felt a sharp stinging on the tip of his finger. Grant jumped back and looked at his finger. It was bleeding from a line of tiny teeth marks.

"It bit me!"

Quinton snapped out of his stupor and looked at Grant, "what have I done?"

Grant pointed at George, "stop standing there and get the rat."

"Rat?", Quinton questioned, "what rat?"

Speaking of the devil, the 'rat' crawled out of George's robe and launched itself at Grant. Grant saw a black blur as the creature flew through the air and landed on his face. Then it bit down on his nose.

"Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!"

Quinton ran over to Grant flailing on the ground. He pinched the wings on the back of the creature and ripped it from his cousin's face. Grant ran to the mirror while Quinton looked at the immobilised monster wriggling like a caught fish. It looked like a hybrid between a fairy and an imp. The creature appeared to be wearing a crude dress made from the hide of a small mammal, and its expression was furious.

"What the hell is that thing?", Grant asked while cupping his bleeding nose.

Quinton shook his head, "I have no idea."

"Well, whatever it is, get rid of it before it bites you too", Grant said while gesturing towards the bathroom's toilet.

Quinton fully agreed with his cousin's sentiments, but the hybrid creature didn't concur. It seemed to have listened in on the conversation. It proceeded to wave its little hands around franticly and make buzzing noises. The creature's desperate pleading only worked once Quinton was standing beside the toilet. He was just about to dunk the creature when he saw it with its arms clasped together like it was praying. Then it repeatedly pointed at George. Quinton paused his movement and tried to work out what it was doing.

"Hey Grant, take a look at this. It's acting weird."

Grant finished washing the blood off his face and walked over to Quinton. Quinton held the creature up to present its pleading to his cousin, but Grant didn't look too interested. Instead, he snatched it out of Quinton's hand and threw it into the toilet bowl. Grant quickly flushed the toilet and watched as the creature was sucked down the U bend. Then he slammed the toilet lid down and dusted off his hands.

Quinton stared at his cousin in disbelief, "what did you do that for!?"

Grant pointed at the bite marks on his nose, "that thing tried to take a chunk out of my face. I'm not waiting around all day for you to mess up yet another simple task."

"You idiot", Quinton said furiously, "that thing was pointing at George. It might have been his pet."

"His pet, seriously?", Grant laughed, "George already has an owl and that thing definitely wasn't Hogwarts approved. Try actually thinking next time before you open your mouth."

Quinton grabbed Grant by his shirt and pushed him against a wall, "this is all your fault. If you didn't tell me to pour water on George, we wouldn't have been in this mess."

Grant pushed back even harder and forced Quinton to the opposite wall, "I didn't tell you to drop a cauldron on his head, you moron. That was all you!"

Quinton kneed Grant in the groin, causing his cousin to fall to the ground.

"You could have helped me carry it, you smug git. But no, you just stood there and watched me struggle."

Grant surprised Quinton and suddenly lunged toward him. He punched Quinton between his legs and he too fell to the ground in pain.

Then Grant unsteadily climbed to his feet, "if you wanted my help so badly, then why did you tell me not to? Just face it, this is your fault."

"It's your fault as well. You can't just lump it all on me!", Quinton yelled back while recovering from the low blow.

The two cousins stared venomously at each other, their anger towards one another reaching an all-time high. But just before a full-blown bathroom fight could kick off, they heard the sound of grumbling beneath them. They looked down simultaneously and saw George's eyelids twitching. He appeared to be waking up.

Before the relief could wash over the cousins, George's eyes shot wide open and he leapt to his feet. He lunged at Quinton and Grant and gripped them by their collars. George lifted them both a foot off the ground as if they were weightless. The cousins both grabbed George's arms and tried to free themselves, but their combined resistance wasn't enough. George merely tightened his grip and consequently made it harder for the boys to breathe.

"I TOLD YOU TO STOP, WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP!? I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER!", George screamed manically.

"George... It's us... ", Grant gasped while clawing at George's fingers.

Quinton was just about able to say, "we're sorry... Please..." before his face started to turn red.

George's eyes were glazed over and his mouth was frothing like a rabid dog. He didn't show any signs of listening since he continued to squeeze the life out of their shirts. Because their collars only got tighter and tighter, it didn't take long for the cousins to begin to lose consciousness. The struggle came to an end as their arms lost grip and hung loosely.

Just before Grant's and Quinton's vision completely narrowed, they saw a little spark of sanity return to George's eyes. Then George's grip loosened and the cousins fell to the ground. They coughed intermittently while taking laboured breaths. George joined them on the floor shortly after, except he was violently emptying his stomach. There were streaks of blood dyeing his vomit red as a small repulsive pool formed on the floor.

After a couple of seconds of the three reeling from their various ailments, they all stared at each other with similar expressions of shock. Neither of the cousins had any idea what just happened, they didn't know if they should be chastising or apologizing. Also, what the hell was going on with George's strength? They had never seen him be so overwhelmingly strong before and they already considered him freakishly powerful.

Grant looked down at the blood and vomit mixture and asked, "George, what's wrong with you?"

"I don't know", answered George as he tenderly touched his forehead, "did you guys try to wake me up with a sledgehammer? My head really hurts."

Quinton weakly pointed behind George while rubbing his neck. George turned around and saw the upturned copper cauldron sitting in a pool of water. He also noticed his soaked-through robes and pants. What had transpired before his nightmare was becoming more clear. Perhaps passing out in the bathroom wasn't George's best choice. Although, it could have ended a lot worse.

George looked back at the cousins and could see the red marks on their necks. Those weren't going to fade any time soon and today was the day they'd be returning to their families. George was on a strict 'no more trouble' policy so he needed to solve this problem before it got out of hand. George reached into his robes and pulled out two vials filled with green liquid.

"Take these. You'll feel better", George offered.

Quinton and Grant didn't take the vials. Instead, they clambered back on their feet and stared at George.

"What's wrong? They're not poison.", George joked.

"Are you going to explain what just happened", Quinton asked while avoiding the pool of sick.

Grant nodded in agreement, "yeah. You looked like you'd gone completely mad for a second."

"Look, I've got a perfectly good explanation. I just... need to... I'll be right back", George said before cupping his mouth.

He ran to the toilet and quickly lifted the lid. Whatever was left inside George's stomach was evacuated into the bowl. This was typical for him after his 'treatment'. He always felt sick for a couple of days. However, last night wasn't like any former experience. Every time George thought about it, his stomach would turn upside down. He couldn't even escape the traumatising memory of it in his dreams. Just recalling it now was causing George to dry heave.

After George finished gagging and wiping his mouth, he noticed some peculiar markings on the inside of the toilet. There were two sets of tiny claw marks spiralling around the bowl and down the u-bend. George had seen marks like those before on the inside of the fairy's jar, what an odd coincidence. Speaking of which, where was that fairy?

George patted down his robes and couldn't find the little devil in any of his pockets. It had been with him before he'd passed out. It's not like it could leave him anymore, so where could it have gone? Then George looked down at the scratch marks again and had a foreboding epiphany. He turned around and was happy to see the cousins still standing by.

"Lads... You wouldn't have happened to flush a... pet project of mine down the toilet while I slept."

Quinton elbowed Grant in the ribs, "see, I told you. It was his pet."

Grant pointed at Quinton threateningly, "don't you start that again. That thing attack me, I did the right thing..."

George ignored the rest of the boy's banter. Instead, he quickly jumped back to his feet and thrust the two vials into Quinton's hands.

"Just drink these and you'll feel better, trust me."

"But George, what about...", Quinton tried to persist.

George ignored him and ran out of the bathroom.

"We'll pick this up later, guys. Sorry about the mess and have a good Christmas", were George's final words before he ran out of the dorm room.

George was no stranger to darting past the many students sauntering on the moving staircases. This time, he had to deal with many suitcases as well. Many students were choosing what to bring back home with them and leaving it at the entrance of the castle. At times, the massive leather cases created an impervious wall that required a little creativity to bypass. George had to make some risky manoeuvres, including running up the bannisters. Hopefully, the long hair he'd neglected to cut from his last transformation should mask his identity.

George arrived at the second-floor girl's bathroom and called out to Myrtle.

"Oh my, you look awful. Even more than usual. Is that sick on your sleeves?"

George looked up and saw Myrtle hovering above him. She slowly floated down to his head level.

"You look even worse up close. It's a blessing I can't smell you."

George brushed his hair aside and asked, "Mrs Warren, I have another favor to ask?"

Myrtle tutted, "another favor. So you're not here to say goodbye before you leave. How predictable."

George tried to smile sincerely, "I would never have left without saying goodbye. This is merely a coincidence and an emergency so…"

"Oh stop it", Myrtle interrupted, "you always talk so sweet when you want something. I'm not stupid."

"Oh course you're not stupid, you are brilliant", George concurred, "you are the smartest and greatest person I've met at Hogwarts."

Myrtle shrank back and said timidly, "you don't really mean that."

George shook his head, "and that's where you're wrong, Mrs Warren. All that you have done for me, it's a debt I could never dream of repaying. However, that doesn't mean I'm not going to try."

"What are you talking about?", Myrtle asked with piqued interest.

George scratched the back of his head anxiously, "well… I was planning on keeping it a surprise until I came back after the holidays."

Myrtle floated closer with her signature mischievous grin, "go on."

George sighed, "alright, I'll give you a hint. But nothing more."

Myrtle nodded excitedly.

George's smile widened, "I'm gonna get you a present for Christmas."

"A present… for me", Myrtle responded in shock.

George nodded, "yep. A really good one too. I've put a lot of thought into it."

Myrtle's eyes seem to glaze over, "I haven't received a present for the longest time."

Then her expression turned serious as she stared at George, "what is it!"

George took a couple of steps back and mimicked zipping his mouth shut.

Myrtle clearly wasn't happy, "I'll tell the professors you brew potions in here using stolen ingredients."

George shook his head, "it's not gonna happen, no matter what you threaten me with. You're just gonna have to trust me."

"Trust you…", Myrtle questioned.

"Yep, can you do that for me? I swear on my life you won't regret it", George reassured.

Myrtle took her time to answer, "okay. I'll trust you. It better be good."

"Oh, it will, Mrs Warren."

Myrtle stared at George for a while before gliding over to the window mantle above the cubicles.

She stared at the snow falling outside, "so what is it you wanted?"

George acted a little confused for a while only to remember why he'd come in the first place.

"Mrs Warren, how well do you know the Slytherin dorm toilets?"