Year Six

November 10, 1979

A thin layer of early snow had graced the school and surrounding land over night. It mostly gathered in trees, on roof tops, and window sills, but there was just enough to fill the space in between the cobblestones of the High Street in Hogsmeade. Even though Christmas was more than two months away, the students chattered and played as though it was but a week away.

"It's cold isn't it?" Francis sniffled behind his woolen gloves. Arthur and him were wrapped warmly in thick coats and sweaters, although the cold still managed to make them shiver.

"It is," Arthur replied, with a stuffed nose. "Though I think it was worse last year."

"Oui, much worse," agreed Francis, "We were snowed in for weeks."

"Actually, only one and a half, Frog," Arthur corrected, moving closer to him. "And where are we going again?"

"Only the finest of pubs that Britain has to offer," Francis said, smiling, "or at least, the only place with edible food."

"Excuse you, but we invented Butterbeer! I can't imagine what France has to offer over that." Arthur smirked, but Francis just shook his head in mock dismay.

"Well, I was already planning on going to the Three Broomsticks for that," Francis admitted as they turned a corner.

At that moment, Arthur realized how close they were to each other. He grinned as Francis "discreetly" placed an arm over his shoulder and pulled him closer.

"Warm enough?" Arthur teased, and Francis rubbed Arthur's shoulder endearingly.

"Very," he answered, and Arthur's heart melted.

As per usual, the Three Broomsticks Inn was filled with people and noisy with incessant chatter. As Arthur and Francis made their way to the back of the pub in search of a table, he noticed some classmates giving them curious looks. However, the two of them managed to find a table for two without trouble and out of sight of other students.

"Don't you find that annoying?" Arthur asked, after they had ordered their drinks.

"Find what annoying?" Francis held Arthur's hand under the table.

Arthur sighed and said quietly, "The staring."

"If anyone asks just say we're only here to make bets and talk about tomorrow's game between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

The waitress served them their drinks before Arthur could speak. They thanked her before continuing their conversation.

"I'm not talking about just today. I'm talking about everyday!" Arthur's voice rose just above a whisper. "What will happen to us if someone –like my brothers- finds out?"

Francis squeezed Arthur's hand. "Relax, you're worrying over nothing. To everyone else, we're just good friends. It's only weird to them because our houses are rivals.

"And anyway, I'm sure that if your brothers found out, they'd understand. Gawain does, right? So why not them?"

Arthur smiled at the thought. "Point taken," he said and saw Francis' face brighten. However, Francis didn't understand Arthur's brothers like he did –especially Alisdair.

"So how about tomorrow's game?" Francis prompted, grinning slyly.

"You're going down, Frog," Arthur promised, taking a swig out of Francis' bottle. "That, I have no doubt."

November 11, 1979

"Found them," Daffyd said breathlessly.

Arthur looked at where his brother was pointing, into the guests' stands. Amid the crowd of wizards and witches, two men stood out. Alisdair and Patrick grinned down at them, giving them thumbs up.

"They actually made it," Arthur said, amazed, and waved back at them.

"Come on, it's about to start," Daffyd reminded him, and they assembled into position with their team.

For the first half hour, both teams chased one another up, down, and around the pitch. No one had scored, the chasers were being worn down, and the Golden Snitch had yet to be spotted. However, as one of Slytherin's chasers swerved to avoid an oncoming Bludger, Arthur was able to nick the Quaffle from her.

Arthur dodged a chaser and spotted Francis accelerating towards him. A Bludger grazed Arthur's shoulder, but he was only five meters from the goal hoops. He pulled upwards on his broom handle and ascended over the keeper's head. He thrust the Quaffle through the open goal as pain suddenly flooded his mind and everything faded into blackness.

The first thing Arthur saw when he opened his eyes, was a two-headed figure standing over him. As his sight focused, he realized it was his brother Alisdair.

"How do you feel? You were out for a while." Alisdair squeezed Arthur's shoulder comfortingly.

"My head hurts," Arthur complained. "Actually, make that my entire body."

"Oh here," Alisdair held out a goblet of red medicine. "Madame Pomfrey said you needed to drink this."

Arthur held his breath as he drank the bitter liquid, feeling like a small child again with his brothers watching.

"Taste good?" Daffyd asked, grinning.

"Gourmet," Arthur replied, handing the cup back. "So I was out?"

His brothers exchanged looks of worry. Daffyd was the first to speak.

"Yeah, you were out for two hours. You got hit in the head by a Quaffle and lost control of your broom and, uh, fell."

Patrick stepped forward, shaking his head. "That's only a few of the details. So first, you threw the Quaffle into the goal. When you did that, you were hit by the Quaffle, and fell off of your broom. You landed onto the goal below you and then the ground."

Everyone fell silent as Arthur just stared confused at Patrick. His mind still felt foggy from waking up, but it felt especially heavy as he tried to sort his thoughts. But try as he might, the thoughts he wanted wouldn't resurface.

"I don't remember that," Arthur said quietly.

"We thought that would happen. Your concussion was pretty bad," Alisdair replied, placing a hand over Arthur's. "Can you tell us what you last remember?"

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, you were waving at me from the stands."

"Francis Bonnefoy! Frog!"

Daffyd marched down the corridor, shouting. Gawain trailed behind him, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"We've been searching for a while now, Daff. Why don't we call it quits and study for our upcoming exams?" Gawain had been trying to reason him out of revenge, but the other was stubborn.

"He hurt Arthur," Daffyd said simply. "It was his fault Arthur forgot about the game. What if he's not allowed to play anymore?"

"That won't happen."

"How do you know?"

Gawain glared at Daffyd. "Because Arthur's okay and will be able to leave the Hospital Wing after this week and continue his life like nothing ever happened, via Pomfrey. That is how I know."

However, Daffyd's attention was no longer on Gawain. Eyes sparking maliciously, he hissed under his breath, "There he is."

November 12, 1979

"Rise and shine," Madame Pomfrey sang the next morning, pulling the curtains open above Arthur's head.

"Morning," He answered sleepily, holding back a yawn. His body felt stiff but he didn't bother to move. It was warm under the blanket and his mind was much clearer than yesterday. "What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock," Pomfrey said, propping up his pillow. "I have your breakfast right here." The nurse walked to the end of his bed, where a tray sat upon the table. She placed the tray of food in Arthur's lap.

"Thank you," Arthur said gratefully.

Not long after he started his breakfast Gawain paid him a visit.

"Are you feeling better?" Gawain asked. He had set down Arthur's satchel at the foot of his bed. It was filled with yesterday's and that morning's homework, no doubt.

"A hundred times better," Arthur answered. "Say, where are my brothers?"

"Oh, well last time I saw, they were scolding Daffyd." Gawain shook his head. "He got himself and the Frog a month's detention."

Arthur choked. "What?"

"You see, Francis was the one who hit the Bludger at you, actually. Daffyd went ballistic." Gawain inspected Arthur's apple. "He was literally hunting him down after you woke up, and started a fight. Of course, Francis fought back.

"Daffyd and him managed to duel for a good ten minutes –give or take- before one of the Prefects found them. They were actually here, but you were asleep by then."

"But are they okay?" Arthur asked nervously. As much as he loved them both, the two absolutely hated each other.

Gawain nodded. "Both got black eyes, bruises, but nothing serious."

Arthur sighed, but managed to smile. "I guess they deserved it."

Gawain chuckled as the bell for class rang. "Got to go, mate. See you later."

Arthur bid his friend goodbye and lied back down. The chatter of the students eventually faded into the background of medicine bottles clinking and his gaze rested on the window across the room. Outside, brown and orange leaves cluttered the window sills and cast an orange glow across the stone floor. As Arthur focused harder, he found it harder to stay awake. He shifted into a more comfortable position, hope things would better when he woke up, and closed his eyes.

End of Chapter Six

Thoughts/advice on the story? Should I just make this story a prequel to the main one?

Anyway, thank you for reading this! If you enjoyed it, then it was certainly worth my time. :)