Everyone in the Great Hall stared at Gideon in stunned silence following his sudden pronouncement.

‘Come, Mr Maxwell,’ urged Professor Voronov, who had arrived at his side.

‘Didn’t you hear? It’s Drake!’ Gideon spat, not fully aware of himself or that he was addressing his Head of House.

‘Come, Gideon,’ the professor said, steering Gideon towards the exit with a firm hand on his back.

Gideon didn’t resist but gave those who dared meet his eyes his best death stare, all the way to the exit. As the doors to the Great Hall closed behind them, Gideon’s brazen façade faltered, and comprehension dawned on him. Gideon’s already fast heartbeat sped up, his breathing became staggered and his mind all but clogged.

His aunt, his father, his mother, his birth mother, the truth, the embarrassment, the shame. There were just too many things to deal with and too many feelings to unravel. This was it. This was as much as Gideon could stand—as much as any sane person could. It was going to happen again. Gideon ran for the front door without a word.

‘Gideon? Come back at once!’ Professor Voronov ordered.

But Gideon didn’t listen, he couldn’t. The professor would see, or worse yet, he would get hurt. Unfortunately, the man gave chase, and he was unusually fast.

‘Please, Professor,’ Gideon pleaded in the open air just a short distance from the castle doors, looking around for an escape, ‘you can’t be here! Leave me alone!’

‘No, Gideon, I’m not going anywhere,’ the professor said, blocking Gideon’s path as he tried to run in the opposite direction.

‘Please, Professor,’ Gideon repeated as the familiar feeling inside of him began to spread throughout his body. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone else.’

‘Then, take control, Gideon!’ Professor Voronov commanded, crouching down, and grabbing the boy by his shoulders.

Without questioning why the man seemed to know what he was talking about, Gideon replied, ‘I-I can’t! There’s no way to stop it!’

‘I didn’t say stop it,’ Professor Voronov instructed as Gideon’s blood began to boil, ‘I said control it! Use your wand. Direct the magic into your arm and through your wand!’

‘I don’t think I can,’ Gideon replied, taking his wand out of his pocket as his skin began to crackle. ‘You should run!’

‘I’m not moving, Gideon,’ the man insisted, his dark eyes meeting Gideon’s with a steely resolve, ‘Don’t think, just do! This is your power. It’s yours to wield, yours to control! Now, focus!’

Borrowing his teacher's confidence, Gideon concentrated with all his might, steadily raising his crackling arm against its will, and pointing his wand into the air. Gideon felt the power inside him withdraw from his limbs, back into his chest and flow only into his right arm like a surging river redirected by a fallen tree.

It was working, but now there was more energy than ever in one area of his body and his arm began to spark, shake, and burn with the force of it all.

‘That’s it, Gideon. Now, let the magic flow into your fingers, into your wand, and release it!’

With an immense effort, Gideon forced the contained magic into the tips of his fingers until he felt it connect with his wand. Suddenly, it felt as though a tap had been turned on too hard and the magic rushed in at once. Gideon’s arm shook and smoked worse than ever as a huge jet of scarlet flames erupted from his wand like the breath of a great dragon.

Gideon yelled with the pain and stress of the task. He didn't think he could keep his arm straight or even keep a hold of his wand much longer. Thankfully, his worry was alleviated somewhat by Professor Voronov supporting his wand arm and grip, but the force of the magic was still incredible.

The scarlet fire continued to fill the sky until all of Gideon’s pent-up magic was released from his damaged arm. Almost immediately afterwards, Gideon’s vision blurred, his knees buckled, and he passed out.

***

The Hospital Wing’s architectural ceiling was hardly a new view to Gideon, but it was a surprising one. When he sat up in one of the medical bay beds, it was a few moments before he remembered what had occurred. Scared of what might happen if he thought too much about it, Gideon calmed his mind and tried to compartmentalise the information.

It wasn’t really necessary, though. One thing stood out in his memory, overriding everything else. It was the sight of the grey sky burning red with the light of his wand. It had been a magnificent sight, if not a frightening one.

Gideon couldn't believe that with Professor Voronov's help, he had been able to control the build-up of magic within him. When it had happened in the Student Lounge—and probably those other times—it had just burst out of him uncontrollably. His wand might have amplified the power but at least it had allowed him to direct the magic to a chosen spot.

Gideon felt a modicum of hope that if, or more likely when he lost control again, he might be able to prevent needless harm to those around him. Of course, he would have to act quicker next time, or he would end up in the hospital again.

Looking down, Gideon noticed that the sleeve of his right arm had been rolled to the top and the flushed red skin was covered in a grease-like coating. His delay in controlling the magic had clearly taken its toll on his body.

‘Ah! You’re awake!’ Madam Longbottom remarked, entering the room with a small tray of bottles. ‘Good. You need to take some potion. You were very lucky, young man. Whatever spell you were trying, it was obviously well beyond you! I shudder to think what could have happened if Professor Voronov hadn’t been there.’

‘Is the professor here?’ Gideon asked.

‘He’ll be back soon,’ the matron confirmed. ‘I’ve already started treating your arm but there is internal damage, too. You also have a serious case of magic depletion, which will slow your healing. You’ll be here for the night.’

‘What time is it?’

‘It’s five PM,' she informed him.

‘I was out for that long?’ Gideon exclaimed.

‘A good thing, too, or you would have had to deal with the pain. Maybe this will teach you not to attempt advanced magic at your age?’

‘Err, sure,’ said Gideon, realising that Professor Voronov hadn’t been entirely truthful with the matron about the circumstances surrounding his injury.

‘Here, drink this, and lie back down.’

Gideon complied. The potion didn’t go down well. It had the smell of aloe and bubbled peculiarly as he swallowed it.

The matron folded out a part of the bed frame, which turned out to be an armrest and used it to elevate Gideon's damaged arm before applying copious amounts more of the greasy salve.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Twenty minutes—and what felt like five pounds of salve—later, Gideon saw Professor Voronov arrive from his propped-up position—with the headmistress. Gideon instinctively made to get up, but Madam Longbottom pushed him back down.

‘Good evening, Gideon,’ said Professor Dandridge with a kind smile.

The cogs of Gideon’s mind were turning, which is why he failed to reply. He wondered if Professor Voronov had shared the full details of his latest magical mishap with her or if, like with the matron, he had skirted the truth.

‘Could we possibly have a moment alone with Gideon, Hannah?’ Professor Dandridge asked Madam Longbottom.

‘Of course, Headmistress. I’ll be in my office,’ the matron answered before departing swiftly.

Gideon gulped as the teachers moved closer to his bedside.

‘Now, Gideon. Professor Voronov has recounted what happened to you both this morning. Given this incident and certain other facts which have come to light, I think there are a few things that we should discuss. I want to assure you now, though, that you are not in any trouble.’

This wasn’t quite the conversation Gideon was expecting.

'I would like to meet with both of you in my office this Friday at lunchtime. I'll make us some tea and see if the kitchens can send up some treats.’

Gideon happened to notice Professor Voronov’s expression straining. He very much doubted the man was one for “treats”.

‘For now, it seems you will be staying here while your injury is seen to. I also think that this would be the appropriate time to return your dream to you.’

‘My dream?’ Gideon said aloud. He knew what she was talking about, of course, but was that really why the headmistress had come?

‘I think that you may now have the information you need to process the dream without it causing you further problems. That said, I would like your permission to allow Madam Longbottom to erect a barrier around your bed tonight. Just in case.’

Gideon nodded in agreement.

‘Good. I’ll take care of this quickly, then,’ she said with a smile before retrieving her wand and a vial of misty pink liquid from her robes. She dipped her wand tip in the vial, pulled out the attached, wriggling, worm-like contents, and touched it to Gideon’s left temple. There was a small glow and the mist disappeared into his head.

‘Right. I will see you both on Friday at midday,’ said the headmistress brightly before turning to leave. ‘Thank you, Hannah!’ she called out on her way past the matron’s office.

Professor Voronov remained by Gideon’s bedside. There was a long silence before Gideon finally spoke. ‘Thank you for what you did, Sir,’ he said. The professor blinked in acknowledgement. ‘I was wondering, though, how did you know?’

‘That, I imagine, is one of the things we will be discussing with Professor Dandridge on Friday.’

‘Okay. Why Friday, though?’

Professor Voronov didn’t seem to know the answer to that question himself, ‘I’m sure the headmistress has her reasons. I will be bringing you schoolwork and homework to get on with while you’re here. I don’t want you to fall behind while you’re recovering. Madam Longbottom will see that you’re not disturbed, but is there anyone that you would like to have visit you?’

Gideon thought about that briefly. ‘No,’ he said sadly. After this morning’s news, any ideas he had harboured about forming friendships were surely folly.

‘Okay. Well, be sure to heed Madam Longbottom’s advice. Here are some of your books and work from today’s lessons. I’ll leave them down here for you,’ the teacher explained, pulling out Gideon’s bookbag from behind his back.

‘Sir! Your hands—’ Gideon exclaimed with his mouth open wide. As Professor Voronov placed Gideon’s things on the floor by his bed, his heavily bandaged hands were momentarily exposed.

‘Think nothing of it, Gideon,’ said the professor sternly, before placing his arms behind his back once more. ‘I will see you tomorrow.’

Professor Voronov left the room, folding his hands in front of him as he did. Gideon was hit with a new wave of guilt. In helping him control his magical outburst, the professor had sustained injuries of his own. Gideon furrowed his eyebrows, shook his head, and huffed through his nostrils in frustration. How many more people were going to get hurt because of him?

***

After a couple of hours of wallowing in self-pity, Gideon was given a sleeping potion to drink before Madam Longbottom used her wand to erect an invisible magical barrier around his bed. Gideon wasn't sure he wanted to go to sleep. He worried that now his dream had been returned to him, he might wake up to another fire. Professor Dandridge surely shared that concern.

If dreams were the way our subconscious minds worked through our issues, as Gideon had been told, his brain certainly had a big job to do. It was perhaps no wonder then, that Gideon's dreams came fast and furiously that night.

It was like he was having several vivid dreams at once. He kept jumping locations, and the people in his dreams wouldn’t stay in place either. One moment he would be in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom arguing with his father, then he might suddenly find himself in his sister’s Hogsmeade store confronting Anthony, then at Aunt Caroline’s arguing with Jennifer, although, she had her back turned each time she appeared.

The last time he jumped back to Hogwarts, he was watching Caroline having her picture taken in the Great Hall while she held up a copy of the Daily Prophet. The image with the cover story was the exact same scene, which Gideon found himself sucked into like a never-ending vortex of pictures within pictures.

Gideon had the presence of mind within the dream to tear up the newspaper and escape the loop, but now he found himself completely alone in a vast, dark space. He began to panic when a menacing voice whispered in his ear, ‘Something dark…’ No, it didn’t whisper in his ear, the voice was in his head. He was wearing the Sorting Hat.

He pulled the old hat up off his head and light returned to the Great Hall. However, he was still alone. There was nobody around. He ran all over the castle but couldn’t find a single person. He couldn’t stand the loneliness, so Gideon ran out into the grounds.

Sadly, he found there the missing students and teachers, but not in the form he had hoped. The lush grounds of the castle were now a mass graveyard with headstones visible up to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and beyond. Just as Gideon wondered what could have happened to them all and how they could have left him all alone, the answer became apparent.

In the blink of an eye, the field of graves became an inferno. Lost amidst the field of fire, Gideon called out, ‘Hello? Is there anyone out there?’ To his surprise and delight, a single voice replied, ‘Gideon!’ He ran through the grounds in search of the voice’s owner, carefully avoiding the blazing headstones. It called his name again, and he was close. He spun around and there she was. It was Gwendoline Drake.

As always, she was reaching for him while calling his name. He reached for her in return but frustratingly, found that his usual tiny hand fell short of the distance between them. Gideon knew what was coming next, but he was desperate to change the outcome. Inevitably, the surrounding inferno engulfed the woman.

Gideon fell to his knees, the pain of losing her again stung worse than the flames ever could. His tears fell to the ground and remarkably, the spot they landed on rippled like a stone breaking the surface of a lake. The ripple widened and a wave of light was released from it, extinguishing the fire as it grew larger.

‘You can’t save me,’ a gentle voice said. ‘You know why. Part of me will be with you always, but I’m already gone. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you. Be safe, my sweet boy.’

***

Gideon awoke with a sense of dread. He opened his eyes with some difficulty but was mildly relieved to see the ceiling was still intact. He hadn’t burned down the building at least. He sat up in bed and had to rub his eyes to inspect his surroundings. The bed, the curtains and the bedside table all appeared undamaged.

Gideon realised that his eyes were a little sore with what seemed to be semi-dried tears. He knew why that might be. He remembered it all, the important part of the dream anyway. His birth mother, or more likely his subconscious, had given him a message. There was a reason why the nightmare had been haunting Gideon, why it had been enough to trigger the fire in the dormitory while he was sleeping.

He understood now. It wasn’t a dream at all. It was a memory. It was Gideon’s earliest and worst memory, brought to the surface by the awful power of the Dementors. It was the memory of his mother’s death. The memory of when he had lost control of his magic for the first time and killed Gwendoline Drake.

The tiny hands that could never make contact with Gwendoline in the dream were the hands of a baby—his hands. He had been reaching for her from the grip of his would-be kidnapper. Being taken from her had been what triggered the magical explosion, one that had emanated from Gideon himself and killed Gwendoline, the kidnapper, and numerous innocent people.

Gideon screwed up his face, trying not to think about the lives he had taken or the expression on Gwendoline’s face when the fire had swallowed her. The more he thought about everything, the crazier it all seemed—the crazier he seemed.

As unforgivable a betrayal as Caroline’s Prophet exposé had been, it had filled in some of the blanks that Gideon had been having trouble with. Part of him was glad that he finally knew the truth, but there was another part of him—perhaps a larger part—that wished he didn’t know at all, and that he could erase the last six months entirely.

Gideon stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. How could Caroline have done this to him? How could he possibly move forward from this point, knowing what he now did? Moreover, how would other people react now that they all knew too? What was going to happen now?