Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 11 - Two Concussions

 300 reads!! Thanks so much for sticking with this fic. I'll be back at school soon, so updates will be less frequent, but I'll try my best :)

 Al and Draco stayed up later than they'd expected to reading all about curse scars, but nothing had mentioned why Harry's might be hurting again. They fell asleep by the fire, books in hands and wouldn't wake again until the fire had dimmed to a faint glow.

 Al opened her eyes suddenly when she heard a loud thud that awoke her. Draco was flailing around in his armchair, mumbling to himself and shaking his head. He was dripping in sweat. "Draco!" she shouted, trying to wake him up, "Draco, wake up!" She couldn't get close enough without him punching her. Starting to panic, she began to shout. "Help! HELP!" But no one came. Suddenly, without warning, he surged forward off the chair and hit his head on the table on his way to the ground. "Draco!" she yelled again, "HELP!"

 Crimson blood poured out onto the emerald carpet from his head. That wasn't good, blood was never good. And no one was coming. She had to go and find a teacher. She hurried out, without even grabbing her wand. Running down the corridors she shouted some more, "Help! HELP!" Where would she even find a teacher?

 Then, she rounded a corner and saw a familiar face. A beacon of hope. A teacher - Quirrel. "Professor!" she shouted, running over.

 "Be quiet, you silly girl," he hissed, unusually sharp.

 "No, you don't understand," she told him, "Draco's hit his head! He's bleeding and he won't wake up!"

 "I said silence!" he repeated and struck his hand out. She flew backward into a pillar with immense force. Al too had now hit her head and felt a warm gush down her face. Her vision blurred but she could still make out Quirrel, who was now approaching her.

 "Draco," she mumbled, "you have...to help-"

 "You will soon learn to obey Lord Voldemort," Quirrel said sharply.

 "V-Voldemort?" she asked, but before she could get a reply, the world went out like a switch had been flicked.

*****

 Al opened her eyes. She inhaled the clean smell of disinfectant and peered around. She was in what she believed to be the hospital wing. Daylight poured in through the arched windows, and neat, identical beds lined the walls. She sat up trying to see some more. A blond head poked out from a bed near hers and she breathed a sigh of relief, "Draco."

 She threw her covers back to get over to him but Madame Pomfrey, the matron, came bustling over with some potions and a bowl of porridge, "Oh no you don't."

 "No, I need to-" she began, but soon gave up, "Is he going to be okay?"

 "Yes, yes, he'll be fine, he's just resting. The headmaster wants to speak with you," the matron told her. Al tried to get up again, "Later," she was told, "You have a severe head injury, you need to rest."

 "Quirrel-" she began.

 "Yes, yes, Professor Quirrel has been dealt with," the matron said, busying herself with Al's bandages.

 "And Voldemort-" Al started again.

 Madame Pomfrey shuddered, "Yes, he's been dealt with too."

 "For good?" Al asked hopefully.

 "Oh, I don't know," she told her, taking a step back and putting her hands on her hips, "Honesty, all these questions! I'd expect it from a Gryffindor or even a Ravenclaw, but not you. Now, get some rest."

 Al peered around the hospital wing and saw that two more beds were occupied. One with a ginger head poking out and the other, a jet black one, "Is that-"

 "Mr Potter and Mr Weasley? Yes," Pomfrey told her.

 "Will they be okay?"

 "Mr Weasley will be fine."

 "What about Harry?" 

 Madame Pomfrey sighed, "Well, he's fought off worse."

*****

 A few hours of boredom later, Professor Dumbledore came to visit Al, "I trust you have a few questions, Miss Dursley?"

 She'd been thinking about what she was going to say, "Yeah, what was up with Quirrel?"

 "He had been possessed by Lord Voldemort," the headmaster said simply.

 "How? Was he a ghost or something?" she asked, confused.

 "No, but there are many ways in which it was possible."

 "Such as?"

 "Whatever was left of Voldemort after Harry defeated him may have possessed Quirrel," he replied.

 "I thought the killing curse hit him. Doesn't that kill you?" she pushed further.

 "And why would you think that Alexandra?" he asked her.

 "It's just Al. And I don't know...I just assumed that's what happened," she replied. "You know, because it's the killing curse."

 "Well, Al, in this instance, I don't believe it's wise to assume anything," Dumbledore said.

 "So you don't know for certain what happened?" she asked sceptically.

 "I don't think anyone does. Including Lord Voldemort."

  "What about Voldemort? What happened to him?"

 "Your cousin Harry banished him from Quirrell's body. Unfortunately, he escaped."

 "So he could return at any time?"

 "Yes, he could." There was a moment of silence.

 "I don't think Harry should come home with me," she said quietly.

 "Why do you say that?" he asked, turning to face her.

 "My Ma and Pa - they aren't very nice to him. I think he'd be better off somewhere else," she told him avoiding eye contact.

 "Alas, it can't be done."

 "Why not?"

 "That is a conversation for another time."

 "Oh." Another brief silence and then, "Do you know why Harry's scar was hurting? We looked in loads of books about curse scars, but we couldn't find anything."

 "So what does that tell you? If there was no way the curse scar could hurt?" he asked her, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

 "It was something else? So, what, it was just a headache?"

 "Perhaps. I presume it was Professor Quirrel who gave you that?" he questioned, pointing at her head. She nodded, "But Mr Malfoy was in your common room?"

 "He just banged his head while having a nightmare."

 "Ah. I shall tell Madame Pomfrey to give him some sleeping potions." And with that, he got up and left.