Tom Riddle and the Pureblood Prince

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Chapter Twenty-three: A Nasty Incident


For such a terrifying and harrowing night, the hospital ward was over crowded with a throng of visitors. Family members of the victims milled around the four occupied beds. The Hufflepuff, Timothy Johnson, Ravenclaw, Ciceron Harkiss, Gryffindor, Michael Adders, and Slytherin Muggle-born, Mary Yardley were only just waking up.

“Oh, I gave them each rather high doses of Calming draughts. According to the students that saw them wandering, they had been hysterical,” explained Madam Pomfrey. A wizard’s eyes gleamed at this and strode over to his son. He was the only magical parent in the room, as he was a step-father to Michael Adders. He was muttering, “If only I knew who would do this to them. If only I knew who did this....”

The children were rubbing their eyes trying to get accustomed to seeing the distorted blurs of people around them in milky rays of candlelight. Madam Pomfrey felt her own nerves going to bits, so she smoothed her apron. Plus her face was smooth, almost a girl’s.

“Where am I?” blurted out Mary Yardley suddenly, in a confused daze.

“You’re in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, dear. Whatever happened, you’re safe now.”

Dumbledore was waiting patiently on the sidelines, with Professor Dippet and Professor Slughorn.

Just then Ciceron started spluttering. Madam Pomfrey’s eyes widened and she realised what was the matter. She grabbed a clean bedpan and then another. All four children vomited up an acidic mixture, the remains of the candy the Dark Order handed out, which was now unrecognizable debris. But none of the potion was present, and even if it had been, it could not be revealed as to the contents. The halfway stage of the Draught of the Living Dead had long since run its course through their veins.

Another parent panicked and demanded, “What’s wrong with them? What are they coughing up!?”

“I don’t know,” Michael Adders mused, rubbing his stomach, his subconscious was remembering the ache from devouring the candies.

Dumbledore stepped forward and addressed the four young victims. “Me, Professor Dippet and Professor Slughorn need some information from you….Can any of you recall where you were this evening?”

Silence was met and everyone waited. Dumbledore felt a surge of hope and he pressed eagerly, “Even the tiniest detail may help us.”

Mary Yardley nodded. “Someone in the halls told us we were sick and we should go straight to Madam Pomfrey….I was scared. So I ran here….”

Mary’s body shook, her heart still palpitating, remembering the agonizing terror, but not understanding it. “Where’s my mummy? I want her!”

“I’m right here. Oh, Mary!” A woman came forward and knelt beside the bed, holding Mary’s hand.

“M-mother? Is that really you mother?” Mary looked at the woman, blonde hair in a bun. She seemed incapable of discerning and recognizing her own mother’s features.

“What’s happened to her? To them?” The mother asked, looking at Dumbledore.

“It appears they have amnesia. I feel confident it’s only temporary. They won’t need a place in St. Mungo’s.”

“And thank heavens for that, or we’d have the ministry storming here,” raved Professor Dippet.

Another parent said bitterly, “Well, maybe there should be a ministry enquiry. My child was attacked!”

“I am sorry, but I am sure the ministry will not be interested, unless we have a suitable suspect. We have been unable to find any. I am sorry.” Dumbledore had not stopped speaking.

The parents drew around the beds. Dumbledore pressed on rhetorically, “Are you sure, there is nothing you can remember at all?”

“Son, you’ve got to know something. You went through a horrible ordeal tonight! Who did this to you?!”

And Michael shook his head. He had not a single answer for his father.

The Hufflepuff Timothy finally spoke. He had been the most reticent of them all since they'd been located an hour ago. He took a deep breath, “Cold…It was so dark. And then we went into a void…We were lost. There was nothing at all to remember!”

Slughorn shook his head defeated. “I guess that’s everything we can get out of them, then. But that can’t be accurate. Something happened. Being the Potions Master, I must give my professional opinion. This must have been a powerful, highly concentrated concoction. And it's obvious, given the violent way their bodies reacted."

“I agree,” said Dumbledore and Dippet also nodded. “Pardon me, Madam Pomfrey, but I need some space to perform spells of a level beyond your ability. So I shall have to examine them alone as it is a little dangerous if I make a mistake.” Dumbledore didn’t say it, for he knew the parents didn’t deserve anymore fretting, but he knew there was a strong possibility their brains were permanently damaged.

Madam Pomfrey assented, “Of course, Professor Dumbledore.”

Everybody stepped out of the ward for a moment and waited for Dumbledore’s diagnosis.


*


“After examining the contents of their minds…All of them will make a full recovery!”

The parents cheered.

“However I have slightly disappointing news. The First year’s memories were grossly tampered with. They have been Confunded regarding the event. Unfortunately, I failed to reverse those spells. Sadly, they will never get to tell us of the horrors this Halloween brought them.”


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