He barely remembered walking to the village after he left the hospital wing. His head was almost blank. Everything after placing Jimmy into Madam Pomfrey's care had been a blur. Just things happening around him whilst he watched his little brother being pumped full of antidote and pain potions and dreamless sleep draughts. He'd done this. This was his fault.
Cyril stepped into the dark hallway of his borrowed cottage and paused. The door clicked shut behind him, and it was like a switch being thrown inside his mind. He turned with what was practically a roar of anger and punched the wall beside him. He didn't even feel the pain in his knuckles. He punched again, and again, the sound echoing through what he thought was the empty house.