Migraine

The weather had been dark and dreary at Hogwarts for a week now, and this nightmarish Saturday was no different. Thunder crashed over the castle mercilessly, as white forked lightning pierced the sky with an angry fervor. All the students were huddled in the castle depressed by the gloomy weather. Young Newt Scamander's plans for the evening were certainly shot. Sighing he tilted his head forward to lean against the smooth glass of the window, in he and Leta's favorite abandoned classroom.

On days like this most students stayed in their dorms and common rooms, but that had never been Newt's thing. There were to many people, doing to many things, talking way to loudly. Here at the moment, he was at peace, and that was a feeling that the 5th Year needed more than anything.

Slowly turning away from the dark gloomy window, he started walking dizzily deeper into the black room, until he hit the spot where, he and Leta had transfigured soft plump armchairs. Newt used to love gloomy weather. He remembered fondly running and playing in the rain pretending to be a Thunder Bird. He smiled and reclined on the soft chair. Now however, bad weather was an omen of impending misery.

Migraines and storms often walked hand in hand in Newt's life since he started getting them before he started school. He had an educated guess on why after reading a muggle veterinary journal; a thing called barometric pressure. The journal had mentioned the many effects of changing air pressure, and the stress it could cause on living systems. To him it seemed like its main job was to make his life miserable.

Reaching his left hand up to his eye he placed it firmly over the aching spot in an attempt to sooth the pounding white hot knife in his eye socket. It had been a horrible week, the nearly all-consuming headache, sunk already low grades that Theseus would have a fit over.

While the incredibly sick feeling had not increased after the second day of this ordeal; the constant nausea has caused his attention to be broken into little pieces on his skulls' floor. He had accidentally set his desk on fire in charms yesterday; a stunt that lost him 10 points and had earned him a detention. Luckily for Newt, Leta did not see that unfortunate mistake.

Leta had been on the war path since she had found out he wasn't feeling good, after this horrible nightmare started. She was constantly poking him and prodding him, trying to make him tell her what was wrong, but Newt didn't want her to worry, just like he didn't want Theseus to worry. Newt could handle it.

CRACK!

The castle shook with the noise, old stone making small clicking noises. Newt curled in on himself pressing more firmly on his eye, as white-hot knives twisted into it. Newt heard a quiet keening noise echo around the room and realized it was himself. He tried and failed to stop it. Slowly Newt tried to relax his muscles, knowing it was already too late for his abused jaw that ached angrily. Newt was miserable. There was no further denying it to himself, his body done. Every inch of the 15-year-old was either cold, aching, or on fire.

'This headaches won.' Newt thought morosely, wanting to just pass out at this point.

Newt looked like a corpse, this was Leta's first thought when she walked in and turned on the lights to, she and Newt's special room. The only thing that made the ghost white boy look alive, was the thin layer of sweat covering every inch of him. Newt was curled in a ball, one hand clamped tightly over his left eye like he was trying to hold it in the socket. Newt was breathing raggedly; every inch of her friend scream he was in pain. Leta ran to him and dropped to her knees, slowly she extended her hand out to touch Newt's forehead feeling for a fever; sighing when there was none. Desperately, she started shaking the rusty haired boy.

"Newt! I swear wake up and tell me what's wrong with you for once in your life!" He just tensed up more, not responding.

Leta felt her anger abate. Newt had been off all week. At first Leta thought it was just the flu, as it was making the rounds through the other students, but when she confronted Newt about it, he just shrugged her off. Then as the days drug by her friend became more and more distant, going even more out of his way to avoid people. Each day she had tried to convince him to tell her what was wrong, but the infuriating badger was not budging.

So, there Leta sat flummoxed, thinking of the best way she could help her friend. She slowly carted her fingers through his sweaty hair, while thinking it seemed to help him relax in between thunderclaps. She was starting to nod off as well leaning against the soft sofa, when she heard the undeniable sound of peeves singing a parody version of the school song right outside the door.

'Don't even think about it you ridiculous poltergeist.' Leta thought hotly before, the damn spirit did just that.

"Oh, would ya look what Peeves has found this time, a couple of sneaky little students playing where they don't belong!" The poltergeist said devilishly, before sucking in a huge breath and shouting "Students out of bed! In the fourth-floor abandoned charms classroom!"

Newt woke up at this. Leta only saw a flash of pain in his haggard eyes before he flung himself over the arm rest of the chair throwing up, trying the keep it away from Leta but failing, when peeves tilted the chair over, rolling the miserable boy on his friend.

"Peeves, you nasty, you blithering, you!"

"That's quite enough Miss Lestrange." Professor Dumbledore cut in her rant, appearing in the classroom doorway.

Concerned Dumbledore walked closer to Newt, who was still brutally dry heaving. Slowing down Newt curled up on the floor and pushed his head against the leg of the chair ashen faced not even sparing a glance at Professor Dumbledore.

"Mr. Scamander, what's wrong?" Dumbledore voice was soft and gentle, noticing that Miss Lestrange was hovering protectively over the young man. Deftly the Professor banished the pool of sick from the stones and the two students.

Newt very carefully tried to sit up but had to have Leta help him as he was shaking so much, he couldn't even get his hands underneath himself. Taking pity on the boy, Dumbledore gently grabbed Newts shoulders and helped negotiate the very ill looking lad onto the sofa. Leta and Dumbledore watched worried as Newt just hunched back in on himself.

"Alright what is going on, Miss Lestrange? Also please don't worry about being in any kind of trouble, I just want to help Mr. Scamander." Dumbledore said trying to smile comfortingly at Leta.

"Well, I am not entirely sure what is wrong with Newt, Professor. He has been looking off for days and I haven't been able to convince the stubborn… er, Newt" she stopped herself, "to let me help. Then I came in here to study and found him lying on the couch." Finishing she stared defiantly at the Defense Against the Dark Art professor as if she were about to have to defend her story.

"Thank you, Leta, I believe you." He gave her a nod.

"I think I have something that will make Newt feel better. In my office on my second shelve, on the bookcase behind my desk; there is a black bag full of potions would you please fetch them for me?" Leta gave the man an analyzing look before nodding and exiting the room.

"Newt, can I take a look at you?" Albus asked softly, staring concerned at the boy's very pale visage.

All Albus got in response was a slight nod. Dumbledore slid his hand against the back of the young man's neck, no fever. This made Albus relax slightly, at least it wasn't the monstrous case of the flu that was burning through the students this year.

"Newt can you tell me what's wrong? We can keep it a secret if you would like." Dumbledore must have said the magic words, as Newt just whispered.

"Migraine. It will go away eventually"

Dumbledore winced, headaches were fairly common in the 5th years due to OWL stress, but never had he seen a student look so terrible because of one.

"Okay, how long has is lasted?" Albus said dropping his voice to an even softer whisper, now knowing what was afflicting his student.

"Week." Was the absolutely miserable answer.

Giving up on any semblance on manners or pretense, Newt flopped over and buried his face in his hands. The young man looked completely done in, curled on his side in a sweat soaked shirt. Albus assumed this wasn't the teens first migraine given the quick, "it will go away eventually" reference which made Dumbledore's heart constrict more than it should have. He had a soft spot for this boy, he realized.

The professor stood from his kneeling position on the stone classroom floor and sat gently down beside Newt slowly rubbing circles in between the boy's tense shoulders. The young Scamander relaxed slightly at the pressure Dumbledore was adding. Fifteen minutes later a breathless Leta walked in carrying his potions kit.

"Ah, thank you Leta." Albus had barely let the words fall out of his mouth before Leta demanded.

"Well? What's wrong with him? Is he going to be, okay?" Dumbledore felt Newt tense up under his hand.

Remembering his promise to the young red head, he said "Yes, your friend will be fine once he has some of these. As for what's wrong with him it seems as though Newt just ate something that did not agree with him."

Leta scoffed, but before she could muster up any angry retort Albus cut her off.

"My dear girl I assure you that I am doing what I can for your friend. If you are going to shout and make him feel worse than he already does, I am going to have to ask you to leave." The calm statement had the desired effect on Leta Lestrange; her shoulders slumping she nodded.

Dumbledore wasted no extra time and started digging through the chaos in the bag finding the anti-nausea potion and handed it to Newt.

"Take this one first, it will help fight the nausea and keep the next one down." Listlessly Newt nodded drinking the terrible tasting potion in one gulp. Albus then exchanged bottles with him sliding the migraine draft in his hand wordlessly, feeling Leta's eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

After downing the second one, Newt handed back the last empty bottle, exhausted. Dumbledore turned to Leta trying his best to look more like he was smiling then gritting his teeth at the girl. "I am going to take care of Mr. Scamander from here Miss Lestrange. He will be in the Hospital Wing if you wish to see him tomorrow, but I would ask that tonight you let him sleep. I will send a friend to walk with you."

Before Leta could say what she wanted to say. A large silver phoenix erupted out of the tip of his wand, dazzling her.

"Goodnight, Leta. Thank you." Both heard Newt say. Turning around both Leta and Dumbledore were surprised to see Newt giving his friend a shaky wave.

Resigned to her sendoff Leta gave Newt a soft smile and followed the silver fire bird out the door waving one hand.

"Thank you, Professor as well." Newt said shyly trying to stand but staggering.

"Easy, Newt. Your more than welcome." Albus said catching the boy, slowly leading the exhausted young man to the Hospital Wing.

Albus knew that with a little bit of rest Newton Scamander would be alright, after not five minutes in the walk the boy started asking him questions about phoenixes. He just needed a little time and pepper up potion.