Flitwick made his way down the steps and to the door, opening it with a bit of a struggle, and closed it, slightly out of breath. Snape sat at his desk his wand drawn at the little goblin.
"Ah, Severus. I would like to have a word with you," Flitwick said in his tiny squeaky voice as he strode forward. Snape seemed in shock that little professor even made it down the stairs and lowered his wand. He walked around to his desk, and compared heights. He looked down at him, and Flitwick subsequently stared at the ceiling to see Snape.
"What is it?" Snape said, even sounding angry.
"It's Miss Black, Severus. Sherri Black. She isn't coming downstairs to-night," he told him in a small huff. "She fell violently ill and is in the hospital wing."
"How so?" Snape counteracted, almost not believe him at first.
"Well, she fell into a fever of about 103.2, vomited for about fifteen minutes, and fainted," Flitwick explained.
Snape only nodded before he said, "Are you sure it wasn't caused by those foul candies created by the Weasley twins? I've found they've been around and selling most of their creations to our students."
"I am aware, but the circumstances are that she wasn't wearing her house robes, nor anything with pockets to carry the cures in." Flitwick stood attentive, despite Snape's suspicions.
"I see . . ."
_________________________________________
THREE HOURS EARLIER
Sherri was on her knees, throwing things about out of her trunk inside the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory.
"Gosh, where are they? I knew I put them in here! How could I have lost them just after a week?" She murmured to herself as she tossed blankets, the Marauder's Map, a remembrall, and several bottles of dried ink out of her trunk furiously.
Finally, at the very bottom of her trunk lay her secret weapon . . . her plan for this evening was finally unfolding. From Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a box called the Skiving Snack-boxes: sorted candies that made you ill along with a seperate piece for a cure.
"Hmm . . . but which one?" she said, looking at the different colours. She took three without looking at the descriptions: the red, the purple and the green. She picked up the instructions.
Red: Deathly ill. Only lasts for five hours, unless taken cure. (Fever Fudge)
Green: Vomit until faintly. Not for the use of queesy stomachs. Only lasts for an hour unless taken cure. Can cause fainting. (Puking Pastilles)
Purple: Fainting. Fades within twelve hour unless taken cure. (Fainting Fancies)
Caution: Do not take them all at once.
Sherri smiled. "Take that, Bijou. I knew there was a loop-hole."
She placed them into the palm of her hand, unbeknowest to her, the one cure she needed most sitting on the dark floorboards: the Puking Pastilles cure.
Sherri ran out of the portrait hole, excited to try them out. It was the first time she tested the Weasley products, but they were said to be the best.
Running further down the stairs, and finally into the Great Hall, she stopped. Looking around, she saw Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick talking amongst themselves.
Someone could spot her getting sick, so she didn't have to wait for someone to take her to the hospital wing.
Sherri took the purple one within her finger tips and ate it. A weird sensation filled up inside her head, and she felt her cheeks become hot. She felt herself swaying a bit, and her eyes burning. Trying to walk, she almost seemed too dizzy.
"P-Professor?" Sherri called out. Her eye sight was becoming a bit distorted. "I'm not feeling too well."
She heard Sprout's voice first. "Dear, what is wrong?"
Sprout's head then turned into three. Sherri couldn't see straight. "I'm feeling really dizzy all of a sudden." Suddenly, she felt her head start to succumb to sweat. "Do I have a fever?"
Flitwick's voice came next. "You do look very flushed. Do you suppose we should take her to the hospital wing?" Sprout's three heads all nodded at once and at once, three hands came about to her shoulder. Sherri tried to back away as it seemed a sea monster was coming at her, and taking her at one time.
"Come on, deary. We'll take you down to the hospital wing. It'll be alright." Sherri nodded.
Her plan was working as she hoped. Now, all she had to do was create a diversion to go to the bathrooms to take the Puking Pastille. Sherri tapped Sprout's three shoulders, or at least, tried to find it and she turned around. "Yes?"
"May I go to the bathroom? I am not feeling so well. I feel . . . I feel as if I'm going to puke," Sherri lied and held her stomach.
"Yes, of course," said Flitwick, gesturing to the nearest bathroom.
Sherri nodded and scurried into the bathroom with a devious smile. She quickly consumed the cure for the Fever Fudge and soon after, took the Puking Pastille.
A rush of fluids overcame her stomach. She felt it steam in her stomach before it dashed into her mouth, in which she ran to one of the stalls, and subsequently vomited. Once, twice, three times, four, five. It was one after the other.
As her lunch came up and gone, her stomach was empty. Next thing she knew, she vomited her stomach fluids. Sherri couldn't take it anymore. There was a massive pain in her abdomen and her chest from heaving, it was enough.
Sherri tried to concentrate on the now crushed sweets in the palm of her sweaty hands and looked for the cure. Where was it? It was gone. She couldn't have dropped it, could she?
But, it wasn't there. There was only two candies left. She hurled once more into the toilet and stood up. Her entire body felt drained. Sherri was still sweating tremendously.
Before she knew it, she was on the cold floor, the candies dropped next to the toilet. Sherri lost consciousness.
Sherri awoke with what sounded like four voices surrounding her and all of them were very familiar: Flitwick, Sprout, Mme. Pomphrey, and Snape.
She didn't dare open her eyes, but just to listen.
"And they haven't found him yet, have they?" said the voice of Madame Pomphrey.
"Of course not. He's too cowardly to show himself, as always," said Snape. Sherri knew at once his lip was curling into a slight smile.
Footsteps could then be heard around her bed. "What about her, though? She should know where he is, shouldn't she?" Mme. Pomphrey was changing the rag on Sherri's forehead, something she just noticed.
"No-one knows. Everyone is too much of a dastard to do so," said Snape, quietly.
"Oh, Severus, they are not. It's too much of a trying subject for her. I mean, it is her father," the voice of Sprout finally immensing.
The footsteps then lingered to the back of the hospital wing. "It's a crying shame that she still has to live with that kind of pressure. Mind you, her father being in prison for almost all her life and finally escaping." said Flitwick's squeaking voice.
"It is, but it almost makes you curious on if she knows his whereabouts. She's in just as much danger as Sirius is with the Dementors. They know she's here and Dumbledore has been keeping an eye out for her lot."
"Her lot, Pomona?"
"Yes. You know, Malfoy's daughter. And you're daughter, Severus, Tallulah, is her name? And Bijou . . ." Sprout advised.
"So, her friends are in danger as well? Do they know?" Flitwick said, a shakiness in his voice.
"Of course not. We don't want them wandering the halls, and sure enough Black is making a big enough impression on her father's memorial -"
"Don't say that, Severus!" Flitwick's yell almost seemed like a scream. "He is not dead yet, which is a big enough impression on anyone. Just think, if he was your father --"
"Which I am highly grateful for that he is not," Snape intervened.
"If he was your father, you would be worried everyday of your life that he was okay. That he hadn't been fed off to dementors yet."
Sherri opened her eyes a little bit, and tried to sit up. She couldn't take the conversation anymore.
"Ah, you are awake, Miss Black! How are you feeling?" Flitwick said, his voice changing to his normal cheerful tone.
She just nodded. Sherri didn't feel at all okay; she actually felt like she was hit by a speeding bludger.
"Wonderful. I am going to go fetch Mme. Pomphrey," Flitwick said, jumping from her bed side and skipped his way into Pomphrey's office.
Suspicious stares now illuminated from Sprout and Snape. They soon left the wing without a word of gratitude toward her. What the bloody hell was that all about?
