50: Aftermath

[3rd Pov]

Amidst a dark expanse, a shadowy figure drifted calmly. There was no wind, but its old, tattered robes swayed as if moved by an unseen breeze. Creaks and grinds accompanied the figure's progress, akin to the sound of bones and joint movement.

In that deep, dark place, the endless darkness ahead didn't seem to affect the mysterious wanderer. It kept going without any trouble, even though there wasn't solid ground beneath for whatever might be its feet.

After an uncertain amount of time in this monochromatic world, something changed. A bit of colour appeared in the colourless surroundings. There, not distant, stood a hospital bed, something abnormal in this surreal plane.

It was a strange sight. Shrouded in crisp, white linens that clashed starkly against the enveloping darkness. The mattress appeared to be plump yet firm, a delicate balance designed to cradle the weary. At its head, a slender, adjustable metal frame had a capital 'H' embedded in it. A thin, but soft pillow rested atop the bed, almost as if offering respite to a restless head.

The figure's attention, whatever served as its eyes, fixed on the bed. However, it wasn't the bed itself that captured its interest — it was the slumbering young handsome boy atop it.

The boy's serene breaths testified to his deep sleep, his medium silver-blonde hair ruffled by his fitful movements. Wrapped in a simple white robe that mirrored the emblem on the metal frame, with one arm casually dangling over the bed's edge, he looked extremely vulnerable.

Emerging from beneath the figure's weathered robes, a hand gradually came into view. It was anything but ordinary, treading near the realm of skeletal, its thin, greyish skin scarcely hiding its shape. The fingers boasted sharp, pointed nails, and the hand itself seemed weary, its knuckles displaying the marks of time.

As this hand reached out for the boy's arm, the accompanying chorus of creaking bones and joints grew louder. The noise intensified as the hand opened, the sound adopting a more distinct rhythm when the hand's fingers then curled, eventually locking around the boy's arm.

"Ah!"

Alaric jolted upright in his bed. His eyes snapped open, and for a disorienting moment, the world remained a blur of shapes and shadows. His heart raced, a wild drumbeat against his chest, as the room gradually materialized around him.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains into the infirmary, allowing him to easily recognize the familiar objects. With a sharp intake of breath, he shook off the remnants of sleep, more worried about the sudden stinging pain on his left arm rather than a good night of rest.

"What was that..." he whispered to himself. Carefully, he lifted the robe's left sleeve, wanting to see if it was a mere phantom pain or something more. Alaric expected a bruise when he did it, perhaps a cut from his fight with the Basilisk, but not a dark hand print that circled his forearm.

His eyes didn't see anything out of the ordinary with the bruise, so maybe Madam Pomfrey had forgotten about it, he thought. But who could have caused such a bruise? If Alaric wasn't sure about having no magical properties, he would've accused a Dementor.

Alaric shrugged, the notion intriguing yet also possibly a mere prank or a coincidental arrangement of dirt. Not that he aimed to downplay it, but Alaric had more pressing concerns. Like explaining the final incantation he used to vanquish the Basilisk. He held firm certainty that his uncle, at the very least, would have discerned the nature of the spell.

Where should he start? Would he have enough material to win in a debate on the misconception that controlled dark magic automatically branded a sorcerer as 'evil'? Alaric was, in essence, challenging one of the most ancient precepts in the realm of wizardry: Magic maketh Wizard.

In his view, labelling magic as dark shouldn't just rely on Ministries' distaste towards some spells. True dark magic included rituals with sacrifices, very cruel curses, spells that can get out of control, and more. Maybe spells that could easily go wrong and hurt the spellcaster should also be seen as dark, even though people's opinions on them diverge.

Such are the spells that could drive certain wizards to the brink of madness, as certain strands of magic exhibit a profound symbiosis with human emotions. Hence, if they yield hazardous consequences, they might also give rise to perilous sentiments.

Whilst Alaric brooded over what to say, the double door leading to the infirmary swung open.

"Al!" Lysandra exclaimed when she began scurrying in the direction of his bed.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, shining like little jewels in the soft light. She took shaky breaths, each one interrupted by a sob that showed how much she was feeling inside. One tear followed the curve of her jaw and dropped onto her shirt.

She threw herself at Alaric with her arms open, enveloping him in a tight hug, and didn't seem to let go while crying softly on his white robe. She didn't wipe the tears away, letting them stay on her cheeks, staining his and her clothes. Her eyes, normally bright, now showed how much she was worried.

"I'm relieved to see you're alright," came an old but familiar voice from behind Lysandra.

"Albus," Alaric said in an unusually serious tone. He took a deep breath to compose himself when he watched his uncle grab a metal chair and place it near his bed.

For a while, they simply stared at each other, only the sobs of Lysandra echoing in the nearly empty hospital wing. Alaric would pat his sister's back, assuring her he was alright, whilst their uncle observed the two deep in thought.

"The magic you used—"

"I know. There's no need to tell me,"

Dumbledore tried to speak but was quickly interrupted by his nephew. The headmaster's eyes twinkled with a sense of dreaded nostalgia, something that haunted him, something he wished he could forget.

By now, Lysandra's sobs had subsided after noticing the building tension between the two members of her family. In her eyes, they were polar opposites.

On one end, Alaric, her brother, the person she knew would never turn his back on her, who would never betray her. A boy who relished in the Dark Arts, who would do almost anything to achieve his goals as long it kept his loved ones safe.

On the other end, Albus Dumbledore, their granduncle. A Merlin calibre wizard that instilled fear and caution in every Dark Lord, be it in Great Britain or the world. Most acknowledged him as the most powerful wizard of their time. A man bound by his past errors to ensure the greater good of the wizarding world.

She wondered how the world would react if the information about them being family was ever known.

It was no secret for the twins the trauma dark magic had caused on their uncle. They knew he had the need to keep prodigious students in check, simply so that past mistakes could be avoided. But could he be blamed at all? Two times had he allowed himself to look past the practices of two wizards, once on his best friend, and the other on one of his pupils. And on both of those occasions, his trust had been misplaced.

Yes, he once dreamed of world domination with Gellert, but in the end, he realized that muggles and wizards coexisting wasn't a really realistic future.

It pained him so that he suspected his own flesh and blood once, but twice was proving too much for him, but he couldn't just ignore what happened to the Basilisk.

"I see. I'm glad you understand," Dumbledore merely said. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and smiled at the siblings. "Speedy recovery Alaric. As for your mother, I've already sent her a letter. She should be here anytime now,"

"What about the Basilisk?" Alaric asked right before Dumbledore exited.

The headmaster smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted. "Cornelius won't be happy, but I'll make sure the Ministry spares something for your projects," he said, stepping out into the corridor.

After he departed, Lysandra continued to hug her brother for a moment before recalling something.

"Oh yeah," she said, reaching for her bag. From it, she pulled out a comically large pile of scrolls and papers and let them drop onto Alaric's chest, causing him to let out a grunt.

"What's all this for?" he asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Homework, Emporium's paperwork, exam stuff, and also a few envelopes with Quidditch tactics," Lysandra explained, extending her pinky finger. "And I promise I haven't peeked at the Quidditch ones."

"Uh-huh," he responded, giving his sister a doubtful look. He made a mental note to discuss a change of tactics with Zoe and Flint once he was discharged by Madam Pomfrey.

Alaric grabbed one of the envelopes, but before he could even open it, the fireplace on the other side of the infirmary roared with green flames, revealing the figure of Isadora Grindelwald.

They were expecting their mother to be worried, maybe anxious about her son's condition, but definitely not the expression on her face she had when they were about to get the scolding of their lives.

"Alaric Grindelwald!"

'Crap,'

__________

After a few days, Alaric was finally released from the infirmary. After enduring a thorough scolding from his mother and a series of discussions with Albus and other professors about the incident, he was cleared to leave.

Lysandra had already caught him up on the latest gossip. Unfortunately, the most common tale circulating was that Alaric, along with Lockhart, valiantly confronted the creature, only for Alaric to be rendered unconscious, leaving Lockhart to fend for himself.

"They're saying his injuries were so bad that they had to take him to St. Mungo's," she relayed, struggling to stifle her laughter. To her, the notion that people believed such absurdities was utterly preposterous.

In truth, Lockhart had simply fled the scene once word spread about Alaric entering the chamber.

Yet, it hardly held any significance. Orion had already amassed enough evidence to expose Lockhart's charade, and that revelation would come soon.

As he stepped out, his friends were right there at the entrance, waiting for him. Stepping into the hallway, they all gave him tight hugs from different sides.

Daphne, Blaise, Tracey, and Theodore all joined in a group hug, keeping it up for a few minutes before they let go, letting Alaric catch his breath.

They had been worried all week, especially when Madam Pomfrey didn't allow visitors. Only sick people were allowed in the infirmary. For nearly half an hour, they caught up on what had happened during the past week.

"We were thinking of breaking Blaise's arm to get in and see you," Tracey admitted, earning a surprised gasp from Blaise.

"Wasn't it supposed to be your arm?" he exclaimed, pointing at her.

"And you'd want a delicate girl like me to break her arm?!" Tracey put her hand to her mouth, pretending to be shocked.

Amid their playful argument, Daphne reached out and held Alaric's hand. "I'm glad you're okay," she said with a smile so bright that it made Alaric's heart skip a beat. Her face showed nothing of her usual Occlumency, just pure, genuine, sweet emotion.

"Thanks, Al," Theodore added quietly from the side, a touch of shame in his voice. "If I had ignored the diary, none of this would've happened."

Alaric smiled and placed his hand on Theo's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Theodore," he reassured his friend.

"But someone could have died, or you could have!" Theodore's voice wavered, revealing just how much the incident had shaken him. Alaric continued to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that the diary's true owner was Voldemort himself, and it could've happened to anyone.

Gradually, the distressed atmosphere eased, and the playful bickering among the other two friends subsided.

"Well, now we have to worry about something far more important than a giant snake," Blaise said loudly. "The Quidditch House Cup!"

**********

A/N: And the Second Year has almost come to an end! As you've noticed, this year was far higher in chapter count compared to the first one, as will the third be longer than the second, the fourth longer than the third, and so on.

Also, for the second vault, I've already given some hints of what happened, but I'll explain properly next chapter.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!