Dongwoo threw Woohyun the angriest look Woohyun had ever seen Dongwoo give anyone – “What are you doing!” – before snatching his own wand out of his robes to release Myungsoo from his bonds. Trying to be as careful as possible, Dongwoo picked the unconscious Sungyeol up in a fireman’s carry then simply ran out of the room with him, roughly shouldering Woohyun aside to get out the door without another backwards glance. Woohyun staggered, having to hold out his hand to steady himself against the wall as his head swam – he locked eyes with Myungsoo on the floor and saw the same blind panic and confusion there.

“I’m sorry,” Woohyun gasped out, “Myungsoo, I’m sorry-”

Myungsoo scrambled to his feet and grabbed Woohyun, pushing him out the door before him without a word. In a daze, Woohyun looked at the smudges of blood on his own shirt from Myungsoo’s hands - Sungyeol’s blood. They ran stumbling after Dongwoo, uselessly wondering why they hadn’t thought of doing the same – just picking Sungyeol up somehow and getting him to the infirmary as fast as possible instead of casting stupid pain-relief spells, why finding someone to blame for Sungyeol bleeding out onto the floor had been seemingly more important than saving Sungyeol’s life.

Students stopped to stare and point urgently as the four of them passed, Sungyeol’s blood on all of them – it was soaking through Dongwoo’s robes where Sungyeol was slumped over Dongwoo’s shoulder, and Myungsoo had to force his trembling legs to keep running mindlessly.

Madam Pomfrey never asked useless questions in situations like these – it wasn’t every day that students came into the infirmary looking like they’d been sliced open but Hogwarts was dangerous enough at times that broken bones and ugly hexes needing immediate attention were commonplace. She led them instantly to an empty bed the moment the four of them burst into the small hospital, sharp eyes taking note of Sungyeol’s unnatural pallor and how his robes were thoroughly wet with his own blood by that point. Her assistants helped Dongwoo put Sungyeol down onto the bed, Sungyeol’s head lolling back and limbs heavy.

“What happened?” she asked curtly, ripping open Sungyeol’s shirt to see what she was dealing with, and Myungsoo let out an involuntary sob. Woohyun’s hand lifted unconsciously halfway to his mouth and then hung there, forgotten, too horrified by the sight of his best friend’s mutilated chest and stomach to think of anything else.

One of Madam Pomfrey’s assistant healers brought bandages and vials of dittany to Sungyeol’s bedside, firmly but gently pushing Dongwoo aside and rushing off again to get hot water. Dongwoo stumbled back a few paces, face turned resolutely away from Sungyeol, Woohyun reaching out too slowly to catch him.

The wounds were deep; not too deep that they showed bone, but deep enough for Madam Pomfrey to in a low breath as she surveyed the damage, immediately casting Tergeo to help her see better without the slick blood still oozing from Sungyeol’s wounds.

She tried the stitching spell she used on most open wounds, but for some reason it wouldn’t stick – the sides of the gashes opened again the moment she closed them, beginning to bleed anew. Then a bloodclotting charm that didn’t work either, and then Tergeo again because of all the blood obscuring her view – they had never seen Madam Pomfrey flustered, but they could read it now in the severe knit of her brows and the stiff way she moved over Sungyeol’s body. She cast a glance back at her Healing Potions cabinet, tersely instructing one of the assistants to get her the Sanguis potion – Sungyeol had to get more blood in him before it was too late.

“I believe I asked you what happened,” Woohyun turned back to see her fixing the three of them with her usual stern expression, voice like a whip, and as if on cue, he and Dongwoo turned to Myungsoo.

“I didn’t do it, I swear,” Myungsoo said, shaking his head in short frantic bursts. “One moment we were – he was fine, and the next moment he cried out and fell to the floor. Then – then the bleeding started. There wasn’t anyone else in the classroom.”

Madam Pomfrey held him with her gaze for a moment before she called another Healer over sharply. “Get Professor Snape.”

“What?” Woohyun asked before he could stop himself. “Why-”

“All of you, out,” Madam Pomfrey pushed them, protesting, away from Sungyeol’s bedside as an assistant arrived, carefully bearing complicated-looking silver instruments and a large glass jar of something crimson – the word Sanguis in faded black letters on the label the last thing Woohyun saw before they drew the curtains around Sungyeol’s bed.

“Stay here,” Madam Pomfrey ordered, pointing to a bed a distance away from Sungyeol’s, and then her expression softened, really looking at them a moment – “Professor Snape will know what to do,” she told them, voice low and soothing. “You should go wash up, the two of you.”

When she had gone back to Sungyeol’s bedside Myungsoo still hadn’t moved, Dongwoo already taking off his outer robes to stand in his shirt and pants, the sight of the red blood darkening over his shoulder a shock after the grey of his robes helping to conceal just how much Sungyeol had bled out onto him. Woohyun silently took Myungsoo’s hands, trying to get him to go wash them as Madam Pomfrey had said –

Myungsoo finally looked down for the first time at the dried and crusted blood on his hands – really let himself look – and felt the shaking start to return. He walked to the bathroom slowly, feeling as if he had abruptly dropped into a nightmare he couldn’t have expected in a million years. He washed his hands without really looking at them, seeing the water in the sink turn red only at the edges of his peripheral vision as it swirled down the drain – what had just happened? It was terrible magic, any fool could see that – the wounds refusing to close, the blood clotting at a pace too slow to be called normal – but who would want to hurt Sungyeol like that? Why?

His heart was still skittering in his chest even though Sungyeol was in the best hands he could be right now – so much blood. Myungsoo didn’t think he would ever forget the look of shock and pain on Sungyeol’s face the moment he had slid to the floor, up in that classroom that already seemed a world away.

When he returned not only Snape but the Headmistress was there as well, low singing or chanting in Snape’s voice coming from behind the curtain that separated them from Sungyeol at the same time Professor’s McGonagall’s higher, more urgent voice could be heard, talking fast. Woohyun and Dongwoo sat close to each other, not talking but gripping each other’s hands; Myungsoo’s heart broke to see them.

Myungsoo was no Ravenclaw, but he could put two and two together – if Snape had been called that meant they were dealing with the dark arts. Dark magic – he studied it because he had to, and the spells were fascinating, but he’d never even dreamed he’d see evidence of it in his own lifetime – Myungsoo shuddered, and tried to turn his scrambling thoughts to other things. He wondered where Professor Lupin was – why hadn’t they called him?

The low singing went on for a long time, healer assistants emerging in and out from the curtains to carry away blood-soaked bandages or bring in fresh new ones and full vials of dittany – how much dittany did they need? How bad was the scarring? But Myungsoo let himself take heart at that – if there was a need for dittany to reduce the scarring, that meant that Snape or McGonagall was making progress – there wouldn’t be any need for dittany if they were dealing with a corpse.

It seemed like an eternity before the singing stopped and they could see Snape’s feet step away from Sungyeol’s bed. Woohyun stood instantly, his free hand tightening into an anxious fist.

Snape and McGonagall pushed the curtains aside, and Myungsoo managed to catch a glimpse of the healers cutting Sungyeol out of his bloody clothes so that they could clean him properly, warm water mixed with antiseptic herbs and sterilised towels waiting nearby. Sungyeol was still unconscious, but the waves of relief that flooded through Myungsoo at the sight of him alive threatened to knock him over – there were angry red scars from his throat downwards, but they looked more like days-old scars, not fresh ones.

“He’s okay,” he breathed, more to himself than anything, and Dongwoo took a step towards Madam Pomfrey.

“Is he? Is he alright?”

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Snape interrupted before Madam Pomfrey had a chance to answer. Myungsoo shrank a bit before Snape’s hard stare, a million things running through his mind. “Do not leave anything out.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Myungsoo faltered, finding no comfort in the lined and set expression of the Headmistress’ solemn face next to Snape’s. “He was really fine one moment and then he started crying out in pain. The blood – he started bleeding a minute after the pain had – I mean, there weren’t any gashes initially,” Myungsoo stumbled over his words, unable to stop himself from thinking over and over they think you did it. “The pain came first, then the blood after that.”

“What was he doing when the pain started?”

Myungsoo’s eyes darted to Dongwoo and Woohyun, anything to stop having to meet Snape’s terrible gaze. There were rumours around school that Snape could perform Legilimency, which is why it was never any use trying to lie to him about missing homework or undone projects; Myungsoo wished then that Snape would just pluck the information out of his brain so that he wouldn’t have to say the words in front of everyone there. Their first kiss – that had been just for the two of them; if he focused hard enough, he could still feel Sungyeol’s mouth on his own. How could he tell them?

“Mr Kim,” Snape prompted, Myungsoo’s own surname sounding like a threat on Snape’s tongue.

“He-” Myungsoo’s throat closed up, and he tried to swallow through the humiliation and chills running down his back. “He was kissing me.”

Myungsoo focused his eyes on the hem of Snape’s robes, shamefully fighting back the urge to cry and look anyone else in the face.

Snape’s face flickered, but otherwise gave nothing away; McGonagall took in Myungsoo’s absolutely broken face and moved towards him, putting her hands gently on his shoulders.

“Was there anyone with you in the room, Mr Kim?”

“No,” Myungsoo whispered, still not meeting her eyes. “I checked.”

McGonagall beckoned Woohyun and Dongwoo over, nudging Myungsoo lightly backwards into their company. “Mr Lee is going to be fine. We’ve given him more blood and Professor Snape has managed to heal his wounds. He needs to stay here at least for tonight so Madam Pomfrey can watch him and so his body can recover from the shock it’s been through. Do you understand?”

They nodded, knowing that asking to stay with Sungyeol would be met with a strict refusal.

“You may go, then. You can come and visit him tomorrow.”

There was nothing left to do but to turn around and go, their footsteps echoing on the flagstones.

*

“Severus, what is it?” the Headmistress asked the moment the boys were out of earshot, eyes showing the anxiety she had refused to let the students see.

Snape paused before answering, gaze resting on the curtains that still hid Sungyeol for almost a full minute before turning to McGonagall.

“The boy was not lying,” he said, reviewing what he had seen in Myungsoo’s head when he had unobtrusively dipped his mind into Myungsoo’s memories – Sungyeol coming closer, comfort, excitement, overwhelming happiness, and then Sungyeol falling to the floor and frantic spellcasting, blood, terror, panic. “He truly doesn’t know what caused this.”

“You knew exactly what to do to heal the boy,” McGonagall said in grudging admiration, the healers finally pulling back the curtains to reveal Sungyeol in new pajamas, sleeping peacefully and not a trace of blood in sight. The only indication that anything was wrong with him was the bandage wrapped around his shoulder peeking out from under the collar of the nightshirt, white against his own pale skin.

 Snape didn’t answer her, his own thoughts racing. He had probed in the boy’s mind to find out how he’d known about the curse – he’d thought he could recognize his own spell when he saw it, the gashes on the boy’s body identical to that caused by Sectumsempra – but now he wasn’t so sure. He had to be the only one who knew about that curse – he’d invented it secretly, after all – but the boy’s injuries had not been inflicted with a wand or any invocation, unless someone had been concealed invisibly in the room and used it non-verbally. It was impossible to think that someone else had discovered the spell and modified it – but the countercurse to Sectumsempra had worked perfectly.

“Do you – do you think it means anything, that they were… kissing before it happened?” McGonagall said the word primly, trying not to laden the fact that two of her male students were romantically – or ually, for all she knew – involved with any further judgement.

Snape looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Should I?”

“No student in this school is adept enough at long-distance hexes,” McGonagall ran through the possibilities. “A delayed-action curse?”

“I think we should be asking ourselves why anyone would want this boy dead,” Snape replied, cutting into her thoughts. “This is a killing curse, Minerva. He’s in your house, what do you think?”

“That’s impossible,” the Headmistress stood, going over to Sungyeol’s bedside to look down at him sleeping. “He doesn’t have any enemies as far as I know. Why would anybody want to kill him? It’s unthinkable. And how would any student have access to learning a spell like this?”

“Maybe it wasn’t a student,” Snape suggested.

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve told you over and over again that Lupin is not to be trusted-”

“Oh, Severus,” McGonagall stopped him curtly. “Enough.” Snape looked away, face impassive except for a small muscle working in his jaw.

“We should check the room they were in. That should have been the first thing I asked,” McGonagall fretted, berating herself while watching Snape carefully. “Merlin knows what’s lurking unnoticed in this castle. Poppy?”

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office at the Headmistress’ call, looking expectant. “Yes, Headmistress?”

“Did they tell you where they were when the boy sustained the injuries?”

“I believe one of them only mentioned it was a classroom,” Madam Pomfrey answered. “Why? Do you think you may know the cause?”

“No, but we need all the help we can get,” McGonagall muttered. “I wonder – could we use Filius’ new tracking charm backwards on the boy? See where he’s been instead of where he is?”

“Or you could just ask me,” Snape said dryly. “I have been inside his… friend’s mind.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?” McGonagall swept past him to the doors. “Come on, then!”

*

The first thing they noticed when they opened the door to the room was the coppery scent of blood, the dark pool on the floor having long dried to near-black. A lone wand was lying half in it – given the curiosity of the students, it was amazing that no one had come in to poke around after the commotion the three bloodied boys running out of it with an unconscious Sungyeol over one of their shoulders must have caused.

McGonagall picked it up and cast Prior Incantato on it with her own wand, seeing ghostly mirrors of pain-relieving spells and Homenum Revelio spill out the end, followed by harmless everyday spells. Even without Snape’s foolproof Legilimency this proved it to be belonging to Myungsoo as well as further evidence to corroborate his story; he had indeed cast spells to stop Sungyeol hurting and tried to see if anyone else was concealed inside the room.

“He didn’t even take his wand with him,” she said softly, imagining the terror the poor boy must have felt. Wizards never forgot their wands.

Snape was walking up and down the room, casting extensive magic-detection charms that glowed pale red and then vanished – the glow lasted for only fractionally longer right above where Sungyeol had lain on the floor, but then extinguished itself just the same.

“No spell was cast here,” Snape declared. “Not today.”

“Then-” McGonagall looked at Snape for a long moment, and Snape nodded. “The boy was carrying the curse with him?”

“Poppy will have kept the boy’s clothes. I could see to them, I suppose, if anyone managed to hex the very fabric, or if he had been wearing any ornaments,” Snape said, turning to go. “I have to tell you that there is probably no point. Magic like this – there is always a trigger. Curses don’t manifest for no reason, as you very well know.”

“I’ll have another talk with Mr Kim,” McGonagall sighed deeply, following Snape out after he had cast Evanesco on Sungyeol’s dried blood, leaving the floor looking as innocuous as before. “Tomorrow. He’s gone through enough for today.”

*

Woohyun’s feet automatically turned in a daze towards the corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower before he realized Dongwoo and Myungsoo were pulling him in the opposite direction towards the Hufflepuff basement. He barely had time to register what the cosy Hufflepuff common room looked like before he found himself in the sixth-year boys’ dormitory, immensely grateful that Dongwoo and Myungsoo seemed to share his need for comfort and privacy without him having to ask for it. The few stragglers from the Hufflepuff Quidditch celebration turned curious heads to watch them as they passed, Myungsoo thanking the gods that Woohyun had had the sense to grab Dongwoo before he’d entered the basement to Banish the remaining blood from his clothes.

They huddled in Dongwoo’s bed together, ignoring for the time being that they were all supposed to be brave sixteen-year olds – Woohyun felt more half that age, afraid and insecure. They realized as a clock somewhere started chiming that it had only just gone six in the evening. How long was it since they’d gone in search of Sungyeol in case his reconciliation with Myungsoo wasn’t going as planned? Woohyun had been fully prepared to step in and beat Sungyeol around the head with a chair if necessary, but Dongwoo had protested, telling Woohyun that Sungyeol needed to work things out with Myungsoo alone but Woohyun wasn’t buying it, knowing Sungyeol’s pride. Dongwoo had gone along to stop Woohyun from doing anything stupid – which Woohyun had done anyway. When he’d found Myungsoo Myungsoo had looked like the sky had fallen down around his feet, even though Woohyun had disregarded the horror in Myungsoo’s eyes and blindly fixated on his best friend’s blood on Myungsoo’s hands.

What would have happened if they hadn’t gone to interfere?

He found it hard to imagine being so fully on Myungsoo’s side even a week earlier – resentful that Sungyeol had found someone so fascinating he’d rather spend more time with them than Woohyun; but now here Myungsoo was in the middle of him and Dongwoo, looking so fragile he looked like he could shatter at any moment. Woohyun was half-glad that he had only cast Incarcerous on Myungsoo and nothing worse, wondering if he could ever have forgiven himself if he had hurt Myungsoo on top of everything else Myungsoo had already been through.

Dongwoo gathered Myungsoo up in his arms, Woohyun wriggling closer as well, and they stayed that way until Woohyun could keep quiet no longer.

“I have never been so scared before in my life. I thought he was dead.”

Dongwoo nodded, staring at his bedsheets.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Myungsoo whispered after a few moments. “I keep – going over and over in my head what happened and it doesn’t make any ing sense!”

His breath caught in his throat as the tears came finally, and he buried his face in Dongwoo’s arm in pained embarrassment, Dongwoo lifting a hand to Myungsoo’s back to calm him down. Dongwoo’s own shock at seeing one of his closest friends covered in blood and prone – as horrible as that was he realized with a jolt that what Myungsoo had gone through had to be even worse. Dongwoo had been expecting – dreading – Woohyun to make an abysmal joke about Myungsoo and Sungyeol’s first kiss, because joking at the worst of times was how he dealt with difficult situations and Dongwoo’d been on tenterhooks waiting for Woohyun to open his big mouth. To Woohyun’s eternal credit, however, he hadn’t said anything. To have your first kiss ruined by something as unthinkable as this – Dongwoo didn’t even want to think about it. Myungsoo had been the first to hear Sungyeol crying out in pain, and to see the blood soaking through his clothes; nothing came close to that.

“I’ve never even kissed anyone before him,” Myungsoo said inconsequentially in a too-young voice, head resting on Dongwoo’s shoulder as his tears subsided.

“That was your first kiss? Ever?” Woohyun asked, Myungsoo’s words nagging at something at the back of his mind.

Myungsoo nodded, Dongwoo letting him use his sleeve to wipe away the remaining tears clinging to Myungsoo’s eyelashes. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Woohyun decided. It was too long a shot. “It was Sungyeol’s, too.”

*

Madam Pomfrey ran faster than she’d run in a long while, wisps of hair wildly escaping her healer’s cap a distressing counter to her usually immaculate appearance. The corridors were deserted as they should be, this time of night – mostly deserted, anyway – she didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries with the Fat Friar as he floated past, his spectral face looking after her in concern.

“Sed nulla nisi ardua virtus,” she recited impatiently at the stone gargoyle that guarded the entry to the Headmistress’ office, taking the steps two at a time when it accepted the password and afforded her entry.

“Headmistress!” She called, frantic note in her voice prompting her to take a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Headmistress, are you there? Headmistress!”

McGonagall poked her head out of a small door to the right of the main desk after a few moments, her fading hair in a long braid and wearing an old-fashioned nightgown crinkled from sleep. “Poppy? What on earth is going on?”

“It’s the boy,” Poppy said, trying to slow her breathing from her dash up to get McGonagall. “He’s bleeding again. All his wounds have reopened, Headmistress, I have no idea how. He looks no different from when they brought him in this afternoon. Nothing we do is working.”

McGonagall wordlessly grabbed robes lying slung over a nearby chair and lost no time following Madam Pomfrey out of the office, the lines on her face growing deeper.

*