Chapter Text
Jisung comes around to the comfort of a hospital bed. He’s back in the castle, it seems, not even in the champion’s tent.
And he’s alone, within the confines of the curtains around his bed. Voices echo from outside the curtains, and Jisung gets the faintest sense of deja vu.
His right arm aches, a dull burn. He can still move it, which is nice, but it’s wrapped in thick bandages. Jisung grabs his wand from the side table, not wanting to be without it. He holds it in his lap. Glimmering beside a get-well-soon card sits that horrible golden egg.
He waves his wand, throwing open the curtains, revealing Chenle—pacing—and Chenyin, and Kibum, all talking.
Chenle stops pacing, his face falling as he spots Jisung. “Jisung,” he whispers. “Fuck.”
Jisung manages a weak smile. “Hey,” he croaks. Chenle plops into the chair beside Jisung’s bed.
Chenyin approaches them. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “You lost an awful lot of blood there.”
“Better,” Jisung says. “Much better.”
“Was that your plan?” Chenle asks. “The conjunctivitis curse?”
“No, it was …” Jisung trails off. Frowns. Cat’s out of the bag now, he supposes. As if on cue, Professor Nakamoto rushes into the hospital wing.
“Mr. Park,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I left it out, I swear. It’s right here, see?”
Chenyin narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he says. “What is right here?”
Professor Nakamoto procures a small bottle, a silvery liquid within it.
Chenle blinks a few times, gaze darting between Jisung and Professor Nakamoto. “I knew it,” he mutters. “You cheated.”
“Failed to,” Chenyin says. “Explain, Yuta, please.” Chenyin crosses his arms.
Professor Nakamoto grimaces. “I left out an invisibility potion,” he says. “For Mr. Park to use, with the intent of his summoning it.”
“I tried to summon it,” Jisung says. “I couldn’t. It never came.”
“Let’s see, then.” Chenyin waves his wand. “Accio Invisibility potion.”
The potion doesn’t budge.
Chenyin looks awfully constipated, which Jisung would find funny if he weren’t so stressed.
“It seems to have an anti-summoning charm on it,” Chenyin mutters.
Professor Ten and Professor Qian approach them. “What is going on?” Professor Qian asks.
Professor Ten narrows his eyes. “You stole from my stores?” he says quietly.
“Yes,” Professor Nakamoto says. “I did.”
“Not cool.” Professor Ten crosses his arms.
Professor Qian purses his lips. “You offered Jisung help,” he says. “That is strictly against tournament rules. We will discuss this later, Yuta.”
“I don’t regret it.” Professor Nakamoto glances at Jisung. “Not even a little.”
“It didn’t work, though,” Chenle pipes up. “You were sabotaged.”
“Evidently,” Professor Qian mutters.
“Jisung.” Kibum kneels by his bedside. “Did you tell anyone?”
Jisung goes to shake his head when it sinks in. Horror dawns on him. No. No, it can’t … He wouldn’t … “Yeah,” he whispers. “I told …”
“Jisungie!” Much to Jisung’s horror, Jihoon himself hurries around the corner. “I just made it in, I heard what …” he trails off, as everyone turns to him. Jisung stares at him. He can’t seem to close his mouth. He can’t seem to breathe. He can’t—
“What is it?” Jihoon asks. “What’s wrong?”
Surprisingly, Chenle gains his composure first. “Jihoon,” he says. “Jisung told you about his plan, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Did you tell anyone.”
“No, he … he told me not to.” Jihoon frowns. “What’s wrong? I thought the first task went fine? I thought—”
“Jisung never received the potion,” Chenyin says, coolly. “Someone sabotaged him. Someone who knew.”
Jihoon visibly recoils. “I’m sorry?” he says. “Are you implying I sabotaged Jisungie?”
Jisung’s gonna be sick.
“The potion has an anti-summoning charm on it,” Kibum says. He leans on Jisung’s bedside. “Were you overheard?”
“No, I don’t think so, I—”
“So it was you or Yuta,” Professor Qian mutters.
“Where did you discuss it?”
“Kun’s office, but—” The heads all move to look at Professor Qian, who purses his lips.
“So Kun could’ve overheard,” Chenyin says. He seems angry. Jisung doesn’t understand why he’s so angry. “So it’s Kun, you, or Yuta.”
“Ge,” Chenle says. “Stop.”
Jisung’s gonna be sick.
“Why would I sabotage Jisung?!” Jihoon nearly shouts. “He’s my goddamn brother.”
“I don’t know,” Chenyin says, coolly. “What does Yuta have to say?”
“I offered to help him,” Professor Nakamoto says. “Why would I do that if I were just to sabotage him.”
“Perhaps just to ensure he doesn’t make other plans,” Professor Ten says.
“Oh, don’t you get involved.”
Professor Ten’s expression darkens. “I was involved the moment you stole from my stores.”
Jisung’s gonna be sick.
“Unless he’s bugged.” Professor Qian won’t stop muttering. He runs a stressed hand through his hair. “I don’t understand.”
“I did what I had to,” Professor Nakamoto says to Professor Ten.
“And it failed,” Kibum says.
“That’s enough,” Jisung finally says, quietly. No one moves. They keep bickering and arguing and arguing and bickering and—“That’s enough!” Jisung says, louder.
The room falls silent.
Kibum stands first from Jisung’s bedside. “You heard the boy.”
Professor Qian only then stops his stupid, incessant muttering.
“Everyone out,” Kibum says. “You can keep bickering outside.” And he shoos them away. Chenle goes to follow, but Jisung catches his wrist.
“Not you,” he mumbles.
Chenle sits back down. Slowly.
Jisung thinks he’s going to be sick. He sits there, lower lip wobbling. Chenle seems nervous beside him. Jisung doesn’t get it. Since when is Chenle nervous around him? Has Jisung really been so …
“You … you okay?”
Jisung swallows thickly. Shrugs. “Why’re you nervous?” he croaks.
A heavy sigh. “You’ve been different, lately, Ji.”
“Oh.” A few tears spill over. Jisung quickly scrubs at his cheeks. “I don’t want to be different.”
“I know, I—It’s not your fault, Jisung. It’s just—there’s a long going on and you just fought a fucking occamy and someone sabotaged you and …” Chenle huffs. “You didn’t tell me you cheated,” he says. Then, quieter, “You used to tell me everything …”
“Don’t get on me for that!” Jisung snaps at him before he can stop himself, rounding on his best friend. Chenle’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping open. Then his brows furrow, and he immediately grows cross.
Oh.
Maybe that’s why Chenle’s been nervous around him.
Jisung suddenly feels rather dizzy. Sick. Anxious. He goes to apologize, he wants to apologize, instead the wrong words leave his mouth.
“You should go.”
Chenle picks at his fingers. Jisung reaches for his hands, instinctively, to pull them apart, only for Chenle to tuck his hands away in his pockets before their fingers meet.
Jisung’s gonna be sick.
Chenle should hate him. Maybe he does.
But Chenle doesn’t go.
“Jisung, look,” Chenle says. “You’ve got a lot going on. A little … volatility isn’t gonna scare me away.”
“You should hate me,” Jisung grumbles.
“I’m not going to hate you.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
Chenle doesn’t respond for a moment. “Do you want me to get you some food?” he asks. “It’s near lunchtime.”
“Not hungry.”
Chenle sighs. “I’m gonna go get you some lunch.” He stands, and leaves.
Chenle returns some short time later, thrusting a plate of food into Jisung’s lap, holding out a fork. Jisung takes it. Slowly, he eats.
“How is it out there?”
“Your brother punched my brother in the face,” Chenle says.
“Wait, what?” Jisung’s eyes nearly bug from his head. “What the fuck?”
Chenle shrugs. “Dunno.” He pauses. “Stupid, though. My brother does boxing, you know?”
“Wait, wait, did he punch Jihoon back?”
“No.”
Jisung nods slowly. He’s suddenly even less-hungry. He feels sick.
He needs to talk to Jihoon.
“Could you grab him?” Jisung asks quietly.
“Your brother? Yeah, ‘course.” Chenle stands, pausing, eyeing Jisung for a moment, then walking off. A few moments later, Jihoon comes in, eyes blazing.
“I didn’t mean to punch him,” he says. “And I didn’t do it, Jisung. I would never. You know I would—”
“Shut up, hyung,” Jisung mutters. He’s itchy. Irritated and itchy and stressed and sad.
Jihoon pauses. He stares at Jisung, a frown etched onto his face. “Jisungie,” he says. Softer. “You okay?”
“I just nearly died,” Jisung says. “I nearly got eaten by a fucking occamy. I’ve nearly been killed by Liu an upwards of four times. My name came out of that cup. And now they’re saying a teacher is helping him. And now they’re trying to blame you.” Jisung looks up at him. “I’m …” He swallows.
Jihoon sighs. “Bud,” he says. He sits on Jisung’s bed. Takes the barely-touched plate from his lap and sets it on the side table. “Jisung.” Jihoon takes Jisung’s hand. “Hyung is always on your side,” he says softly. “Yeah? Always.”
“Okay,” Jisung whispers. “I love you.”
“I love you more, okay? Hang tight. Hyung’s doing what he can to look after you, okay?”
Jisung nods. Jihoon leans over, embracing him. He cradles Jisung’s head against his chest, patting his hair. Jisung relaxes slightly. He lets his eyes fall shut, as exhaustion washes over him in waves.
Eventually, they separate.
“How’re Mom and Dad?” Jisung asks.
“They’re alright,” Jihoon says. “No attacks, no news. They’re just … you know, old and retired.” Jihoon chuckles. “Mom’s trying to pick up knitting again. She’s so bad.”
“Really?” Jisung smiles. “Worse than you?”
Jihoon laughs. “Worse than me.”
“And how about Dad? How’s the house?”
“House is fine,” Jihoon says. “They’ve decided to stay.”
“Really?”
Jihoon nods. “Mhm. Auntie convinced them moving wasn’t worth it. Sure, it’s falling apart a bit, but apparently Uncle knows a guy who’s good with old houses, or whatever. He’s got solid rates, too.”
“Solid rates.” Jisung snorts. “Mom and Dad could afford five houses.”
Jihoon chuckles. “I know, but you know how stingy they can be.”
“Right.” Jisung has missed his brother. He’s missed talking. Casual and lighthearted conversations. His face falls, as his heart sinks. He’s missed living.
“Hey,” Jihoon says, frowning. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m tired, hyung,” Jisung murmurs. “Feels like I’ve been so …” He sighs. “Out of it, I guess.”
“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like you’ve been awfully depressed.”
“Depressed?” Jisung frowns. “I don’t get depressed.”
Jihoon purses his lips. “Jisung,” he says, a little firmer. “You tried to get Liu to kill you.”
Jisung winces.
“It’s fine if you’re a bit depressed, bud. You’re going through a lot right now.”
Jisung swallows. “Sure,” he mutters. He’s itchy. Itchy, itchy—“What did you mean when you said from what you’ve heard?”
“From Kibum and Taemin.” Jihoon pauses. “Chenyin. Professors Qian and Lee. We’re all worried about you, Ji.”
“Great,” Jisung grumbles. “I don’t need looking after.”
“Jisung, listen to me.” Jisung glances at him. “You are going through something right now that most people will never go through. That most people could never go through.” He sighs. “Let us adults look after you, okay? Let us worry.”
“I don’t need them looking after me.” Jisung doesn’t like it.
“I asked them to,” Jihoon whispers. “Alright? Because I can’t.” He pats Jisung’s hair. “And, well …” Jihoon chuckles. “You remember how long it took me to get out of you that you were having panic attacks in class.”
Jisung’s face flushes. “Shut up, hyung.”
“Chenle had to tell me.” Jihoon pauses. “The point is, it’s okay to be looked after, right?”
“I’m not a kid. I don’t need looking after.”
“No, you aren’t a kid. But you aren’t an adult, either, and there’s a damn murderer after you.” Jihoon sighs. “I know it sucks, alright? But let me worry, okay? Let me be reassured you’re alright.”
The words tumble from Jisung’s mouth before he can stop them. “I’m not alright.”
“I know,” Jihoon whispers. “I am so sorry.”
“Hyung,” Jisung says. He swallows. Pulls himself together. He doesn’t want to cry. Not now, not here, and not in front of Jihoon.
“Rely on your friends, okay?” Jihoon says. “And your professors, and me. Hell, Chenyin’s a good resource, too.”
“Chenyin? Didn’t you just punch him in the face?”
Jihoon’s ears turn red. “Yes,” he grunts. “He deserved it.”
“Dude,” Jisung says, exasperated. “You can’t punch people in the face.”
Jihoon waves him off. “I will not be doing it again. Don’t worry.”
“Okay …” Jisung says.
“What I was saying.” Jihoon shoots him a playful glare. Jisung smiles. “Is to take care of yourself, alright?”
Jisung nods.
“Alright.”
Life carries on.
Jisung is released from the hospital wings a few hours after Jihoon returns to work, shortly after their conversation ends. Jisung doesn’t go to the Great Hall. He doesn’t go to the common rooms. Instead, he goes to the Room of Requirement, where he tucks himself away on a beanbag, and hides from the world. He didn’t run into anyone on his way here. No one knows he’s in there. So there’s no way whoever’s relaying information to Liu would know either, right?
Right?
Jisung ends up leaving shortly, far too on edge to properly relax. He makes his way to the Great Hall and, the moment he steps in through those stupidly grand doors, the whole hall falls silent, before erupting into cheers. Jisung looks behind him, but no one’s there. When he turns back around, Sungchan’s in front of him, laughing. “Those cheers are for you, stupid,” Sungchan says.
“Oh.”
He slings an arm around Jisung’s shoulders, pulling him toward the Gryffindor table. He sits Jisung down and shoves a plateful of food in front of him.
“That was brilliant!” Jaehyun exclaims across the table. “Jisung, how did you do it?!”
Jisung honestly doesn’t really remember how he did it. “Um,” he says, quite eloquently.
“Don’t overwhelm him,” Beomgyu scolds. “Let him eat. He was just stuck with Madam Lee for a day or whatever.”
“Being stuck with Madam Lee is a blessing,” Jake says. “That woman is gorgeous.” He sighs.
“There you are!” Before Jisung can even poke his food, Chenle hurries to him. “Hey, guys,” he says. “Mind if I steal him?”
Beomgyu pouts. “We just got him.”
“Sorry,” Chenle says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. Jisung stands up out of the table, letting Chenle take his hand and pull him from the Great Hall. Chenle’s hands are smaller than his, Jisung thinks. They’re quite worn and calloused, probably from playing so much Quidditch. Jisung’s hands aren’t so calloused at all.
Jisung’s a little bit numb.
“Chenle,” he whispers, as they’re halfway to the dungeons. Chenle doesn’t hear him, and Jisung can’t bring himself to speak louder, so he digs his heels in and stops walking.
“What?” Chenle turns, tilting his head cutely.
“I … I.”
Chenle raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you think it was my brother?”
“God no,” Chenle scoffs. “Not in a million years. I think it was Ten.”
Jisung whips up to look at him. So he’s finally admitting it, Jisung thinks. “What?”
“He could’ve noticed Nakamoto stealing from his stores,” Chenle says. “Or I don’t know, maybe he overheard. Maybe your brother’s bugged. Maybe Qian’s office is bugged. Maybe …”
“Bugged?!” Jisung stares at him.
Chenle’s expression turns grim. “My brother said the Ministry and Qian have been having a lot of problems due to the ability of electronics to function in the magical world.”
“Oh.” Jisung swallows thickly.
Chenle sighs. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m not trying to make you more stressed, I just, you know, I can’t help but theorize.”
“You hate Ten,” Jisung croaks.
“I do,” Chenle admits. “I’ve been trying not to let it cloud my judgement, like Chenyin’s been saying, but …” He grimaces. “I hate him for a lot of reasons. Who’s to say that doesn’t translate here?”
Jisung eyes him. “Sure,” he says.
“But come on,” Chenle says. “Jaemin wants to see you.” Chenle nods his head down the hall. Jisung hurries after him.
“Is everything okay?” Jisung asks.
Chenle shrugs. “Not sure.”
“Is Mark with him?”
Chenle shakes his head. “He went to grab something he left in the Room of Requirement.”
Jisung frowns. “Who’s with Jaemin?”
“Hyuck,” Chenle says. “And Jeno.”
“Okay.” Jisung doesn’t have a good feeling about all of this. In fact, it’s settled quite uncomfortably in his stomach.
They reach the Slytherin common rooms. Jisung hurries into the seventh year boys’ room and spots Jaemin immediately. He’s pale, sickly, almost.
“Jisung,” Jaemin croaks. “Do any of your anythings have to do with Mark?”
Jisung stares at Jaemin. “No.”
“Do you see him?” Donghyuck asks from Jaemin’s bedside, where he’s holding his hand tightly. Beside Donghyuck, Jeno holds a bowl.
“He’s all I’ve been seeing.” Jaemin swallows. “I had Renjun go with him, to grab whatever he forgot, but …” Jaemin’s gaze seems to bore into Jisung’s soul. “I’m afraid,” Jaemin whispers. “I was sure he would have a connection to Jisung, but if he doesn’t …” Jaemin turns white as a sheet. He sits up, grabbing the bowl from Jeno and retching into it. Jisung winces, looking away. Jaemin turns to Jisung, eyes wide. “Go,” he hisses.
Jisung turns on his heel and runs.
Jaemin’s been their canary in a coal mine. Jisung can’t think of a single thing he’s done that’s been related to Mark.
So this certainly cannot be good.
Jisung runs as fast as he can across the castle. He throws open the doors to the Room of Requirement and his heart nearly stops.
Mark is on the ground, unmoving. Liu slowly stands from him, a wicked grin on his face.
“Oh,” he whispers. “Well, will you look at who decided to join us?”
“What did you do?” Jisung demands. “What did you do?!” he yells.
Liu giggles. He steps over Mark’s body toward Jisung. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Liu,” Jisung says. “He’s innocent. He’s entirely innocent and—”
“But you aren’t?” Liu tilts his head. “Are you?” He smiles. “This is your fault, Jisung Park.”
“Please.” Jisung can barely get out the word.
Liu laughs. “Oh, dear boy,” he says. “When will you learn you are but a mere pawn in this game?” He smiles. “In our game.”
“Our …” Jisung furrows his brow. “Who is ‘our’?”
Liu shrugs. “Dunno.”
Jisung’s head hurts. He can’t deal with this. “Just get out,” he says. “Get out, and leave me and my friends alone.”
“Oh, but.” Liu grins a toothy grin. “Why would I ever pass up a chance to kill you?” And he fires the first spell. Jisung deflects it, sending it flying into the wall. Liu fires another spell. Red spell after red spell comes flying Jisung’s way. Jisung can’t seem to send a single spell back, stuck defending himself like his life depends on it. Which it may.
Until he reacts too late, and his wand goes flying from his hand, clattering on the floor across the room. Jisung stands his ground, on edge, ready for anything, when the doors fly open and spells fly toward Liu. Liu disapparates easily. And Jisung drops to his knees. He can’t seem to move. Can’t seem to do anything other than sit and stare as Chenyin, Kibum, and Taemin hurry toward Mark.
“You okay?” Chenle asks, kneeling beside Jisung.
Grief. Impossible, overwhelming grief. Seems to be swallowing him whole. Who’s next? They went after Mark? Chenle? Who’s next? How many of Jisung’s loved ones are going to get hurt in this fight? How much do they all have to suffer?
“Jisung?” A hand rests on Jisung’s back. “Hey.”
Jisung shakes his head. Watches, as Taemin scoops Mark into his arms, and carries him past Jisung and Chenle, Kibum following him.
Chenyin passes Jisung his wand. “C’mon,” he says. “You two shouldn’t stay here.”
Chenle pulls Jisung to his feet and Jisung follows them out of the Room of Requirement. Chenle takes Jisung’s hand. Holds it tightly, as they head to the Slytherin common rooms to …
To tell Jaemin.
Jisung stops walking, stuttering to a halt. His head hurts so badly. He thinks he might be dying.
“Jisung?” Chenle says. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t understand.” The words tumble from his lips. “I don’t understand! Why Mark? Why Mark?! Mark is … he’s …” Jisung stares at Chenle pathetically. “What are we supposed to tell Jaemin?”
Chenle’s face falls. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “But let’s keep going, okay? He’ll need our comfort.”
“I don’t know how I could bring him any comfort when this is all my fault.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Chenle says.
“Yes, it is!”
“Jisung.”
“This is all my fault, don’t you understand?!” Jisung nearly screams. “He attacked you. He attacked Mark. I don’t … I …”
Chenle glares at him. “Let’s go, Jisung. We can figure this all out later.”
“Go without me.” Jisung can’t bear to see Jaemin. Not right now.
“No. You can’t run from this. None of us are mad at you and none of us hate you, so let’s go. Okay?”
“You should hate me,” Jisung says.
Chenle’s expression grows cross. “Quit being so self-centered, dammit!” he yells at Jisung. Immediately, his face drops, and he pales. Jisung stares at him in shock.
Chenle sucks in a breath. A few students in the halls are staring at them now. Chenle looks around, hands twitching at his sides.
He grabs Jisung’s wrist and yanks him into a nearby empty classroom. “This is not just about you,” he hisses. “This is not because of you.” He jabs a finger into Jisung’s chest. “This is bigger than you. My brother said there are uprisings all over London. You may have been a catalyst, but you are more than that and less.” He sighs and takes a step away from Jisung. “You are not responsible for the world. You are just Jisung.”
Jisung can only really stare at him.
“We’re all hurting too, okay? We’re all stressed. We’re all scared. We aren’t going to hate you for something you didn’t do, and we certainly aren’t going to blame you.” He sighs. “But you have to rely on us, and talk to us, and work with us. And you need to … I don’t know. Think less.”
“Think less,” Jisung parrots.
Chenle nods.
“Okay,” Jisung says. “Okay, I—I’m—”
“Don’t apologize.” Chenle scowls. “Just … think about it, okay? And don’t even consider giving up.”
“Okay.” Jisung swallows.
“Let’s go see Jaemin,” Chenle says.
Jisung follows him to go see Jaemin.
Devastated is an understatement, as the entire air of their friend group seems to shift after Mark’s attacking.
They move him to St. Mungo’s, Madam Lee being unable to figure out how exactly he was injured. He isn’t waking up, it seems.
Jisung’s trying not to freak out. He’s trying not to walk straight into Liu’s clutches and let him just—
Jisung’s not doing that. Pointedly.
Per Professor Qian’s request, the Ministry moves to interrogate Professor Nakamoto, and he’s in their custody by the end of the week.
Jisung is not freaking out.
Jisung is not freaking out.
He throws himself into his schoolwork, studying as hard as he can to get as good as he can but it really only feels like he’s getting worse.
Chenle insists they do some flying to relieve stress, which is how Jisung ends up on the Quidditch pitch stands, bundled up tightly, given that it’s now December, squished between Jaemin and Renjun.
Chenle managed to rope in Jisung’s roommates, the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and a few Hufflepuffs, to make for a proper scrimmage. He even got Coach Suh, the flying instructor, to referee.
Jisung will admit he’s impressed at Chenle’s social skills, and his dedication.
“It’s too cold,” Renjun whines beside Jisung. He then grumbles something about stupid long sleeved robes and Jeno’s biceps. Jisung pays him no mind, focusing on the game at hand, while glancing behind himself every few seconds to make sure he’s not being snuck up on.
“Quit doing that,” Renjun says with a scowl. “We’d hear someone coming, Ji.”
Jisung frowns. Jaemin’s hand slides up to the back of his neck, massaging gently. Jisung eases, but only a little.
To his right, Kibum, Taemin, and another man Jisung sort of recognizes, make their way up the steps of the stands.
“Mind if we join you boys?” the new man asks. “Minho Choi, nice to meet you.”
“I’m Renjun,” Renjun says.
“Jaemin.”
Minho’s gaze lands on Jisung and he grins. “And I know who you are. You’re the stealer of Kibum’s iprestigious title.”
Kibum smacks him. “Don’t scare the boy.”
“Sit behind us, will you?” Renjun says. “Jisung’s paranoid.”
Minho hums. “For good reason,” he says.
Jisung nearly faints. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t scare him,” Jaemin says, eyeing Minho. “Where were you?”
“I just got back from studying magical creatures in the states,” Minho says. “Things are fine there, but here? Less-so.”
“We know,” Renjun deadpans.
Minho hums. “My point is, Jisung’s vigilance is smart.”
Jisung turns around to fully face them as they all sit behind him, Renjun and Jaemin. “Do you know who’s helping Liu?” Jisung asks.
“If you mean traitor teachers.” Minho pauses. “No. But Liu is not working alone, I know that much.”
“He’s …” Jisung trails off. “He’s what?”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Minho says. “I would’ve expected Qian to have told you already. But no, Liu is not an independent figure. It’s likely he has allies within the anarchists causing problems in London.”
“Do you know his history?”
Minho shakes his head. “Not much. Killed a fellow Hogwarts student. Disappeared off the face of the Earth. That is, until he showed up to try to kill you.”
“That’s really all we know about him?” Jisung frowns. “No family to interrogate? No friends? No …”
“We suspect he’s changed his name or something,” Minho says. “Can’t seem to trace him at all.”
“Weird.”
“You said it.”
“Jisung!” Chenle’s voice has Jisung turning back toward the pitch. He floats over to them on broom. “You aren’t even paying attention!” He pouts.
Behind Jisung, Minho chuckles. “This is Chenyin’s brother?”
“Yes,” Taemin grunts. “Little gremlin.”
“I can hear you!”
“Go back to your game, Chenle,” Jaemin says.
“Fine, but Jisung, you have to pay attention.”
Jisung can’t help himself. He smiles. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll pay attention just to you.”
Chenle’s ears are already red from the cold, but Jisung’s sure if they weren’t, they would be now. “Okay,” he says. And he flies off.
Jisung focuses on Chenle this time around. He’s playing well, sending the evil balls across the field and into the big ball and his enemies. Jisung doesn’t actually know how Quidditch works.
At some point, as the sun begins setting, Coach Suh blows his whistle and orders them all back inside.
“That was fun,” Kibum says, as the six of them make their way out of the stands.
“It was good to meet you, Jisung,” Minho says. “And you too, Jaejin and Renmun.”
Renjun gives Minho an unimpressed look. “It’s—” “Thank you,” Jisung says. “I just … one last question.” He pauses, where they stand just outside the castle. “Do you know who the teacher betraying me is?”
Minho’s expression darkens. He glances at Taemin, who sighs, and smiles warmly at Jisung. “We’re still figuring it out,” Taemin says. “We’re working very hard to figure it out.”
“I-I just …” Jisung’s losing his mind. “This is hard.”
“I know,” Kibum says. Jisung looks at him. And he’s sure he does know. “This is all very hard.”
Jisung’s heart sinks.
“We have our suspicions,” Minho says. “My return ought to speed things up some.” He grins cheekily, as Kibum smacks him again. Jisung manages a smile.
“Come on,” Minho says. “You boys should eat something.”
Jisung returns to the castle, and does exactly that.
Minho is … friendly. Jisung likes him, but there’s something …
Jisung doesn’t know how to place it. It feels like he knows more than he lets on. Knows more than he’s telling Jisung. Jisung gets it, sure, he’s just a kid. But also he’s a bit more than “just a kid” these days.
Chenle’s words ring in his ears. Maybe he is just a kid.
Jisung hates being just a kid.
It’s early December now. The yule ball is at the end of the month, Christmas is right around the corner, and Jisung doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care. He just doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to go to the Yule Ball with anyone. He doesn’t want to dance. And he certainly doesn’t want to be famous.
Maybe Jihoon was right. Maybe he is depressed.
Mark still hasn’t come around. It’s only been a week, sure, but Jisung feels sick. Sick to his stomach. What if he never comes around? What if that’s it? Mark is dead?
Donghyuck scolds him severely when he meekly says this to him.
“Don’t,” Donghyuck says. “Don’t even think about it.” He turns up his nose. “Mark is going to be fine. He’s tough. He’s super tough.”
Jisung looks at him pathetically.
“Don’t give me that!” Donghyuck scowls. “He’s fine, okay? He’s fine.”
“Hyuck,” Jisung mumbles. “My brother says I’m depressed.”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “You mean that wasn’t obvious?” They’re lazing in the Room of Requirements during Jisung’s free period. Donghyuck is skipping with Sungchan, who’s sound asleep, snoring loudly on a beanbag between them.
Jisung shrinks. “I didn’t know.”
Donghyuck sighs. “Jisungie, it’s been sorta … you know. Visible.”
“Oh.” Jisung hates that. He can’t do this. He can’t do this. Jisung can’t do this.
“You know,” Donghyuck says. “I mean. It’s not, like, obvious to anyone. Just to us, but that’s because we’re close to you.”
Jisung sinks into the beanbag, burying his hands in his hair. He’s crumbling. “Tell me happy things,” he whispers.
Donghyuck hums. “Sungchan finally confessed to me.”
“He what?!”
Donghyuck laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “And Mark and Jaemin are together, too. You know what that means.”
“No?” Jisung squints at him.
Donghyuck grins at Jisung. “Better get on it, Jisung.”
Donghyuck’s words shake him to the core.
In a different time, a different year, maybe, Jisung would consider confessing to Chenle. He’s harbored this stupid crush since they met in their first year so he may as well, right?
But now? Given the state of things? Jisung can’t even imagine it. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t risk losing Chenle. He couldn’t risk brutal rejection. But, the opposite, it seems, is worse. He certainly can’t risk Chenle liking him back. Their dating. Chenle becoming even more of a target.
He just can’t risk it.
As the end of the week rolls around, the Daily Prophet takes the opportunity to make things for Jisung ten times worse.
“Jisung.” Renjun reaches him first, where he stands with Chenle at the edge of the Great Hall. “You need to see this.” He shoves a newspaper into Jisung’s hands, as Jisung realizes there are giggles echoing throughout the hall.
Brow furrowed, Jisung reads it.
CHAMPIONS REVEAL: JISUNG PARK HAS A SECRET LOVER?
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Jisung mutters.
‘Given the opportunity to finally chat with the talk of the Wizarding World, Jisung Park, I found the boy has many more secrets than he lets the world in on. A tragic backstory, and a secret lover, another boy in his grade.
Park teared up talking about his devastating past. A Gryffindor born to a family of Slytherins, he was shunned. His secret lover, however, is a beacon in the dark, as he—’
Jisung’s palms grow sweaty as he continues reading. A boy. A boy in his grade. Jisung’s secret lover is a—
He’s gonna be sick.
“It’s not true, is it?” Chenle asks nervously beside him.
Jaemin swoops in. “Chenle, come eat.” And ushers him away from them.
“Jisung?” Renjun says softly. Jisung can’t seem to stop shaking. She outed him. She just outed him. Everyone knows he’s gay. Chenle knows he’s gay.
At least his parents don’t read the paper.
Renjun loops an arm around Jisung’s shoulders and pulls him quickly to an empty classroom, where Jisung slides to the ground, burying his face in his hands.
“I’m so sorry, Ji,” Renjun says.
Jisung peeks at him through his fingers. “What do I do?” he asks.
Renjun’s face falls. “I don’t know.”
A soft knock on the door and Renjun stands, peering through the glass. “It’s Jeno,” he says. “Can I let him in?”
Jisung nods.
Renjun opens the door just enough and Jeno slips inside. He doesn’t hesitate, kneeling beside Jisung, patting his hair. “Chenle doesn’t care,” he says.
“You’re sure?”
Jeno nods. “He wants you to know he supports you, and he wishes you’d felt able to tell him sooner.”
“I hadn’t told anyone,” Jisung blurts. “My brother knows. Now … now …” He feels sick. Jisung hugs his knees tightly. “I didn’t want people to know,” he says in a small voice. “I hadn’t even told my parents. Now everyone knows. My professors and my friends and all my classmates. The whole wizarding world.” He frowns. “And now Chenle thinks I have some stupid lover when really I just like him.”
Jeno chuckles. “Don’t worry about that,” he says. “We’ll work on dispelling the rumors, okay? We, the seven …” Jeno trails off. He shakes his head, and keeps talking. “Seven of us, we all know you don’t have a secret lover. I’m sure your dormmates won’t care either.” He smiles. “Jimin and Yizhou will listen, right?”
“Right.” Jisung sighs.
“And they’ll tell their friends and soon enough, the whole school will know the truth.”
“I dunno if that’s how that works,” Jisung mumbles.
Jeno chuckles. “Keep your chin up, okay, Sungie?”
Jisung sighs. “Okay.”