"I heard Malfoy, Crabbe and a 7th year got sent to St Mungo's," Ron said with glee. "How're you not in trouble?"
"Dumbledore and Snape questioned everyone. Apparently, these cowards jumped me for revenge for their friends that I argued with the other day. Poor fools must've thought they had better odds in a 10v1," Blake laughed. "It's looking like they're the ones in trouble now."
By six o'clock, the ward had emptied out and visiting hours were over, and Madam Pomfrey did one last check of his vitals, told him firmly not to move, and headed down to the task.
Blake counted to thirty, listening to the sound of her footsteps slowly fade.
Then he sat up.
The ribs were mostly handled. The concussion had reduced to a faint swimmy quality at the edges of his vision that was manageable. The leg was the main issue - a deep residual stiffness from the Leg-Locker setting into the muscle that was going to make moving quickly uncomfortable.
I've had worse, he thought, thinking back to his fight with Voldemort/Quirrell in first year.
He was halfway through getting dressed when the ward door opened.
Daphne came in with her bag over her shoulder, which clinked slightly when she set it down on the chair beside his bed. She looked at him - already half dressed with his shirt off, moving around, clearly not staying put like he was probably meant to.
Well, this is awkward.
"Your ribs aren't fully healed," she said, feeling his torso. Blake couldn't help but draw his breath as her fingers ghosted over his chest. She explained further as she opened the bag. "Pomfrey did the bone repair itself, but not the secondary bruising around the cartilage. It'll take a while to heal on its own."
"I don't feel anything."
"That's because you'll mainly feel it every time you breathe too hard, like when you're fighting."
She held out the first vial. "This will sort it."
He drank it immediately, grimacing at the taste, but she was right - he felt tension that he hadn't even realised was there release around his ribcage almost immediately.
She handed over the second without being asked. "For the concussion. It'll take fifteen minutes to fully clear, so don't wait to take it."
He drank it.
"The leg," she said, preparing the third. "This one's going to hurt for about thirty seconds before it works.
"How bad?" he said.
"Bad," she said simply.
It was bad indeed. He tried not to show it though, and luckily, Daphne distracted him.
"Normally, Leg Locker curses don't stick like this, unless they're particularly strong," she said, frowning slightly. "But I can't imagine anyone in Slytherin that is that good…"
"Must've been Malfoy," Blake said, to which Daphne raised her eyebrows. "I'm being serious. He's gotten stronger."
"If you say so," Daphne shrugged, standing up.
"How long do I have?" he said, reaching for his robes.
"The tasks starting in 5 minutes," she said, packing the empty vials back into her bag. "You need to go now."
"Right." He checked his wand. "The notes on Moody's seals - the third one, did you look at the variation I wrote up?"
"I looked at it," she said. "The substitution method should work but you need to hold the restructuring charm for at least eight seconds before the seal registers it. Don't rush the count."
"I know," he said.
"You always rush the count."
"I won't."
She pulled out one last vial, and handed it to him, before closing her bag. "Don't get caught leaving."
"I'll do my best."
/
The corridors were empty, which made Blake's life a lot easier. He could hear the distant crowd noise from somewhere outside, rising and falling, which meant Harry was still in the maze and he had time.
He moved quickly, keeping to the routes he'd mapped out weeks ago, and reached Moody's office in just under four minutes, just as planned.
Three seals on the door. He'd theorised about all of them extensively in the Room of Requirement, had written up approaches for each one, and had gotten second opinions from Daphne and Hermione across two separate sessions until they'd landed on the substitution method that she'd just reminded him not to rush.
Theory's one thing, but putting it into practice is another though, Blake thought, frowning.
First seal: 3 seconds. Standard construction, not as subtle as whoever built it had thought.
Second seal: 30 seconds. A detection enchantment designed to alert the caster on intrusion. He unpicked it from the outside in, carefully, and the crowd outside rose and fell twice while he worked.
Third seal: 1 minute. He held the restructuring charm for a full count of ten, not eight. Unfortunately, Daphne was right about his tendency to rush his counting, no matter how much he denied it to her face. Better safe than sorry.
It released slowly, with a sound like a breath of air.
Blake pushed the door open. Moody's room - the DADA room - was just as he'd expected. Dark. Cluttered. Messy. Time to search.
He combed through the places, employing all the detection spells he'd read up on and practiced, from both the Hogwarts library and the Black family library, and in about 3 minutes, he had found something - a trunk against the far wall. Seven locks.
Blake realised immediately what the idea behind this was, and immediately got to work. I don't have the keys, so I need to break in - but doing so will definitely alert Moody - there's no way he hasn't got alarms for this, maybe even curses if someone breaks into it.
He rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. As expected, the standard enchantments didn't work, but luckily, Blake had some ideas of his own. Pulling out the set of Runes that Charlotte had prepared for him, he arranged them carefully, in the correct order, type and shape, and cast the magic. The first lock opened, and Blake grinned. As he repeated the process again and again, each subsequent lock opened, until finally, he got to the seventh.
There, at the bottom of the deepest space, was the sleeping form of Alastor Moody.
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