Chapter 22: Chapter 22
Mordy scampered as fast as he could across the cold stone floor (which, considering he was a rat (more or less), was not terribly fast) towards the Gryffindor Common Rooms.
Everything was going swell until he encountered The Fell Beast. The Fell Beast gave a cry of rage that would haunt Mordy's dreams for weeks and charged. Mordy tried to dodge, but the cat was too fast—its claws left a bloody gash down the rodent's back. It would have been enough to kill a lesser rat, but Mordy, as a familiar, had more hit points—barely. He had half as many as his master, who unfortunately decided to dump Constitution at character creation.
Mordy climbed a suit of armour (rusty, the Gryffindors hadn't got this far yet) to escape the dreadful claws. He tensed, and jumped over to the next suit, barely catching hold of the helmet's visor. The Fell Beast, meanwhile, sat on the ground, debating what to do. He saw her tense up, ready to pounce, and Mordenkainen started to wish, heartily, that his master had taken the Improved Familiar feat.
As the Fell Beast jumped, Mordy let go of the visor and landed on the ground painfully. The cat's collision with the armour toppled it to the ground, and it spread in pieces over the hallway. Mordy evaded them easily (Improved Evasion could be handy) and sprinted as the cat regained her senses. Terror, Panic, Despair, he felt through the empathic bond with his master.
He rounded the last corner before the common room, and finally reached the portrait. The Fell Beast was hot on his heels.
"Password?" asked the Fat Lady.
"Squeak," said Mordenkainen.
"Correct," said the painting, and swung open. He barely made it through the portal as the painting swung shut. He could clearly hear the irritated sound of the Fell Beast hissing in frustration on the other side. There was a promise of pain and death in that hiss. Victory, Satisfaction, Triumph, he felt through the bond with his master.
In the common room, he saw Scabbers eating some crumbs off the floor.
"Squeak!" he said to the ugly rat.
"Squeak?" the appropriately-named Scabbers asked, surprised.
"Squeak, squeak-squeak squeak!" Mordy said urgently. Fear, Pain, Dizziness, he felt. Oh, no, Mordy thought. Has he been poisoned? Is he sick? Mordy concentrated and tried to send strength through the bond. Every species of familiar had some sort of special power—and rats could convey a measure of resistance against things like sickness in their master, as long as they were within a mile.
"Squeak," Scabbers said, and gave the rat-equivalent of a shrug. Mordy gave Scabbers a solid kick to the stomach, and ran into the girls' dorms. He had to find the one with the nice teeth. She was smart, she would understand, she would help. The problem was that the humans all looked alike to him.
"Squeak?" he said hopefully to one, who woke up, looked at Mordy, and screamed. Wrong one, he thought.
"There's a rat in my room!" she cried. "Lavender! Wake up!" another girl stirred irritably.
"What?" Lavender asked sleepily. "Ack!" she shrieked. The other humans all stood up out of bed while Mordy looked at them each, carefully, trying to figure out which was the one with nice teeth. The fact that they all were screaming made it easier.
"Hey, it's that rat Milo carries around all the time," said one (Hannah, in case you were wondering, not that Mordy knew that).
"What's he doing in here?" Lavender asked. Mordy gave the rat equivalent of a sigh. This wouldn't happen if I were a mouse, he thought. Everyone loves mice.
"Squeak!" he said urgently.
"He looks kinda distressed," Lavender said. "Wait, is he bleeding?"
"He should be with Milo," said one. "And Milo's out in the Forbidden Forest…" she frowned. "We need to find McGonagall, immediately. Milo could be in trouble—and this poor rat looks half dead." As she spoke, he could see her teeth—good, rat-like teeth. Yes, this is the one, he thought as his hit points slipped into the negatives.
o—o—o—o
This is taking way too long, Harry thought. Is Quirrell lost?
"Sh-should be just past the next few t-trees," Quirrell reassured him. "Th-then we'll b-be in open t-t-territory and can sp-sprint."
Harry was skeptical. He was fairly certain they were going roughly perpendicular to the castle, but then again, he'd never been in a forest before—it was more than likely that his sense of direction was misleading him. Still, he felt that the return journey should be faster than the trip out—they were taking all kinds of twists and turns while searching for the mysterious unicorn-killer—but it had been at least that long since they'd left Hagrid.
Harry gripped his wand, for all the good that it would do. His scar still ached somewhat, so he wondered if Snape was around, creeping in the bushes.
"Hello?" he heard a familiar voice call out. "Hagrid? Harry? Quirrell? Milo?"
"Headmaster!" Harry shouted. "We're over here!"
Quirrell, Harry noticed, looked briefly frustrated before regaining his composure.
"Wait there!" Dumbledore shouted. As the grandfatherly man approached, Harry could see a glowing red light coming closer. It looked like fire, but it felt oddly soothing. Quirrell shielded his eyes from the bright light, but Harry felt fine
"H-Headmaster, th-the boy was b-bit by an acromantula," Quirrell said to Dumbledore, who had a red, glowing bird of some sort perched on his shoulder. "H-he's been p-poisoned."
Dumbledore acted quickly.
"Quirrell, take Mr. Potter back to the Gryffindor common room. Fawkes," Dumbledore said to the bird, "take me and Milo to the hospital wing." There was a burst of red flame, and Dumbledore and Harry's friend vanished with a small puff of smoke.
"Sh-showy, b-b-but effective," Quirrell noted.
o—o—o—o
Milo awoke, staring at an all-too familiar ceiling.
"I'm in the hospital again, aren't I?" he asked weakly.
"I'm sorry to say that you're correct, young man," Madam Pomfrey said. "And, don't take this the wrong way, but it would be nice to go five days without seeing you."
Milo laughed weakly.
"You'll note," she continued, "that we left you with your magical belt this time. Your… pet… is on the bed next to you."
Mordenkainen was lying on the next bed over, wrapped in bandages.
"What happened to him?" Milo asked, his voice full of concern.
"He was attempting to get the Gryffindor common room, we believe, and was attacked by Ms. Norris. He almost died, but Hermione got him here in time, bless her. His appearance was how Dumbledore knew to go looking for you."
Milo frowned.
"Why did I need rescuing, again? It all seems so foggy."
"You were bitten by an acromantula, a highly intelligent and extremely dangerous magical spider-like monster. You're lucky to be alive. It's the sort of thing I'd think you'd remember," she said. The bite wound had, largely, healed mysteriously during the night, much like his injuries had when he'd first arrived. The venom's effects, however, lingered somewhat.
"No," Milo said. "I definitely don't remember that. There was a spider, and I dropped a tree on it, but it never touched me."
"You're still very sick, and I'm sure it all happened very fast. I wouldn't worry about it," she said, while pondering his words. He thinks he dropped a tree on it? Pomfrey thought. He is delirious.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"A day and a half, roughly. We managed to stabilize you, but it took until this morning for Snape to brew the antidote," she said. "He worked all night, you know."
Milo frowned. That story didn't add up at all. Something weird was going on.
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