Chapter 8 - On Broken Wings

Oliver sat quietly on his bed as he read a book for class entitled, Charlotte's Web. From the corner of his eye he saw Marcus enter the room and toss his book bag on his own bed. He then heard Marcus take a deep breath before he spoke. "You haven't said a word to me in two days," he stated.

"There's nothing to say," Oliver told him, flipping his book to the next page.

"Do you need me to apologize again for the other day?" Marcus asked.

"Apologize for what? Nothing happened," Oliver said defensively.

"Alright. Sure," Marcus replied giving in easily before turning around to walk out the door, but then stopped. He was letting him do it again. He was letting Oliver, a boy more than a year his junior, call the shots and it had to stop.

"Hey!" Oliver yelled when Marcus yanked the book from his hands.

"Listen to me, Ollie," Marcus's face was set in determination. "If you can't remember what happened, then let me remind you."

Marcus then leaned in to kiss the other, but before he could, he was pushed away. "What are you doing?" Oliver yelled at him with wide eyes, shaking his head from side to side. "I'm a boy! You're a boy! Boys don't do that. They're not suppose to like that!"

"I'm sorry," Marcus cried, extremely embarrassed at such a rash action he had taken. "I only thought if I could-" he stopped, his mind just now taking in Olivers' words. He then smiled softly. "You liked the kiss I gave you, didn't you?" he asked.

"No," Oliver said seriously, his face turning a bit red. "Now get off my bed, Mar-Mar."

Marcus's smile fell. He knew he had upset Oliver and so reached out to comfort him. "Ollie," he began softly, but Oliver once again pushed him away.

"Fine, if you won't get up, I will," he told Marcus as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

"Oliver, please," Marcus took a hold of the other's sleeve.

Oliver looked down at where Marcus had taken a hold of him. He then slowly rose his brown eyes to meet a set of blue ones. "You're my brother, Marcus, and if you think this is okay, you're just not sick, but as about as stupid as you look."

Marcus' mouth fell open at Oliver's words as he pulled his hand away and held on tightly to the fabric of his own shirt. Oliver cringed as he sighed, knowing he had gone too far. He knew Marcus was sensitive when it came to that word.

Oliver was about to apologize, but before he could Marcus spoke first. "Please," it came out as a hiss. "Don't flatter yourself." Marcus' whole demeanor changed as he brought his hand down along with his head, allowing his dark hair to mask his features. "You're not my real brother," he finally stood. "You're not even a real Flint. You're just some kid my parents took pity on." He then pushed Oliver roughly back onto the bed. "So if you think, for one moment, I'm going to allow you to talk to me like that again, you've got another thing coming."

Oliver said nothing, though mostly because he was in shock. Marcus had never threaten anyone, let alone him. And so the boys stared defiantly into one another's eyes, neither wanting to succumb to the other. "Marcus! Oliver!" They were torn away from each other as they heard Gale's voice. “Boys!” she yelled again.

“Yes, ma'am?” Marcus called.

“I need you boys to put on your coats,” she told them from downstairs.

“Alright,” Marcus replied, he then saw Oliver picking himself up off the bed, and so pushed him back down before laughing a bit. He then made his way over to the closet to grab what he needed before going down to see what his mother wanted of them.

“Where's Oliver?” she asked when Marcus arrived.

“He's coming,” was all he said as he finished zipping up his coat. “Where are we going?” he asked as he noticed his mother's face. She looked upset as he watch her fold up a piece a parchment and stick it in her pocket.

He received no answer from her as Oliver finally made his way down the stairs, his hands in his coat pocket. “Come on,” Gale instructed the boys as she grabbed her house keys and the three were out the door.

The boys had no idea where they were going at first as they followed Gale, who was gradually picking her her pace, making the boys having to run a few steps from time to time. Then as they continued their journey Marcus recognized a few streets. They were going towards his father's job. “Give me your hands,” Gale told them as traffic had picked up and they were about to cross the street. Gale dragged them along, holding each of their hands with a crushing grip, as if a afraid to let them slip away.

Once they neared the building, she released them and held the door open for them as they stepped inside. “Sit here,” she told them when they arrived in the lobby. “Don't go anyway,” she said sternly before going to find her husband.

Alvin was in his office, doing his editor's job. . . again, when he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, not looking up from his work.

“Alvin,” his head snapped up curiously when he heard his wife's voice.

“Gale?” He laid down his work and stood as he saw the distressed look on her face. “What's wrong?”

“It's Chelsie,” she told him as she pulled out the letter she had received only a little while again. “There's been an accident.”

Alvin frowned as he he practically yanked the letter from her hands. “What kind of accident?” he asked as he unfolded the letter and his eyes scanned it over. “A Quidditch accident?” He looked to his wife. “But she's been injured in the game before, the school has never called us in.”

“I know,” she said. She then reached out and touched her husband's arm gently. “I want to see her now, Alvin.”

Alvin nodded his head as he got ready to leave. He didn't plan on telling anyone he was leaving work early. “Where are the boys?” he asked.

“They're with me. They're waiting in the lobby,” she informed him as he guided her out the office and closed the the door behind them. A few people looked at Alvin curiously as the couple passed, but the look on his face made them reconsider asking him where he was going.

As they made their way to the ground floor towards the lobby they noticed Oliver sitting alone. “Where's Marcus?” Gale asked him.

Oliver dangled his legs underneath his seat as he watched them swing. “Am I his keeper?” he asked in response.

Oliver was then taken by surprise as he was roughly grabbed by the shoulder and forced to stand. He looked up to see Alvin's face set in anger. “Don't sass,” the man barked at him. “Today is not the day.” The child lowered his head before nodding. Alvin sighed, he was upset, but the last thing he ever wanted to do was raise his hand towards one of his children. “Answer her question, Ollie,” he spoke gently.

Oliver slightly turned his head as he lifted his hand and pointed down the the hall to his left. “He only went to the bathroom,” he finally answered. When Marcus returned, he received a small lecture about obeying his mother before the left the building.

Since the small family was unable to Apparate onto Hogwarts school grounds they opted to use the Floo system. Before long they stood before the Headmaster Dumbledore who had been waiting for them in his office where they arrived. “Aw, Mr. and Mrs. Flint,” he greeted them as he stood. “I'm sorry to see you again under the circumstance.”

Marcus, throughout the course of the small journey had no clue what was going on, but as he once again saw worried and distraught faces around him a sinking feeling overcame the pit of his stomach. He could feel it as a cold chill ran down his spine and he shook visibly. . . something was wrong. Marcus was then taken by surprised when he felt Oliver take his hand. He looked down at their laced fingers, Oliver clinging to him desperately. Marcus then knew he wasn't alone, it seemed that Oliver also knew something wasn't right.

“Where is she now?” Gale responded without delay. “The letter never specified what kind of injury it was.”

“She's with Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, but your daughter's injury is beyond the scope of her expertise,” he explained and then looked at the two small boys behind their parents. He smiled at them softly as if trying to offer comfort, but it was not received.

“What does that mean?” Gale asked.

Dumbledore proceeded to answer her. “It means, I think it would be wise if she was moved to St. Mungo's for further treatment, but of course, her parents' consent was needed before she could be removed from the school grounds.”

“I demand to see my daughter, now,” Alvin spoke for the first time, his voice deeper than normal as he regarded the other man.

“Of course,” Dumbedore nodded as he moved from behind his desk. “If you'll follow me,” he told them before leading them to the exit and they began, what felt like a very long walk, to the hospital wing.

The air felt different as the doors they needed to enter came into their view. It had become thick and heavy, the air, and though Marcus was silently taking deep breaths, he felt as if he wasn't getting another air into his lungs. They felt as if they were burning within him. He wanted to see Chelsie and he wanted to see her now. He studied the pace the other people with him. They were moving slowly as if the the journey had not been long enough and he couldn't stand it anymore. And so, he yanked his hand away from Oliver's and then without warning broke out into a run towards the huge doors in front of the small group, pushing his parents and the Headmaster out his way as he did so.

“Marcus!” Gale bellowed, as her son's reaction. She reached out a hand to stop him, but as she did so, felt Alvin's hand take her wrist gently.

Gale looked to her husband, his sad eyes betraying the stern look of his expression as he shock his head from side to side. “Let him go,” he whispered.

Marcus, with both hands on the handle, pulled opened the offending object with little effort and charged into the room, but froze only a few steps from the door as he entered the spacious room. A shiver ran over him as he saw his sister in the furthest bed from the door, located next to the nurse's office. His first step was small as the heel of shoe made a small echo within the room, but he gradually picked up his pace to match the beating of his overactive heart. “Chelsie,” he called half way through the room. “Chelsie,” he called again as he got closer, expecting her to turn her head and to look at him, but she remained still. So unearthly still.

As Marcus finally reached the bed, his steps slowed into a stop as he peered at his sister. She looked so pale, that the long red mark that stretched across her forehead stood out like an apple among oranges. He then heard the sound of a door and looked to see a women who could only be Madam Pomfrey. “Hello, child,” she greeted him gently, but he ignored her as he reached for his sister's hand, it was as cold as ice.

Soon Marcus felt the presence of his father behind him. Alvin reached cautiously out and placed his hand on top of his first born's head. Gale stood beside him and Oliver next to her. After many minutes a small voice was heard. “Fix her,” the voice came from Oliver as he spoke to the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him apologetically, “I'm sorry, son, but there's nothing I can do.”

“Are you trying to make my sister out to be a liar?” asked Marcus his eyes never leaving his sister, his voice low as it had been that morning. “She told me you could fix anything, so honor my brother's request,” he told the woman. “Fix her.”

Madam Pomfery had no words for the little boys who were obviously in more pain than she could ever imagine. She looked up at their parents as Alvin made to speak. “What happened?” he asked.

“I think- I think I can explained that sir,” came a voice from behind them.

The group, save for Marcus, turned to see two red headed boys. The small one looked to be about a second year. “Um. . .” he took a deep breath as he avoided eye contact with the Flints. The boy than felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the fourth year boy who nodded his head reassuringly. “My name is Charles. Charles Weasley, and I'm the reason Chelsie is here.”

Gale looked confused. “You attacked your own teammate?” she asked.

“No!” Charlie's eyes went wide as he shook his head violently from side to side. “No, ma'am nothing like that,” he explained. “See it was my first game and usually I'm a pretty good flier, but somehow I lost control of my broom and we collided, making her too lose control of her broom-”

“No!” Marcus yelled out angrily, finally turning around to look at the older boy. “Chelsie has never lost control of her broom! You're lying!” he marched over to him as he yelled. “You clumsy, no good, red-headed freak!” he yelled even louder, jumping on the boy and striking his face.

“Marcus!” Gale ran over to help the fourth year boy get her son off Charlie who was unsuccessfully trying to cover his face from Marcus' blows. “Enough. I said, enough!” she yelled as she finally detached her son, whom she finally noticed had tears running down his face before he clung onto her and refused to let go.

An hour later, the small family had settled Chelsie into her new room within St. Mungo's. They were told that she was in coma and they had no idea when she would wake up. Marcus took the news the hardest as he crumbled to the floor, but tears refused to leave his eyes. “Weasley,” Marcus, in disgust, whispered to himself.

Oliver than rested himself beside him. “He'll pay,” he whispered to his brother. “We'll see to it. . . together.” Marcus nodded his head and agreed.

To Be Continued. . .

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