Who: Seamus, Susan, various denizens of Hogsmeade and St. Mungo's Where: Hogsmeade, then St. Mungo's When: Sunday evening, around dusk What: Monsters Attack Part I Rating: Low-ish
Seamus was busy minding his own business when it happened. He was walking back to Hogsmeade from the farmhouse, in jeans and short sleeves to enjoy the brief warm spell. There was a small smile on his face, his thoughts on plans for the brewery and how proud Susan would likely be when she discovered he'd found the direction he was previously lacking. He was humming to himself as well, some old Irish folk song his mother sang to him when he was younger. The sun had long sank beyond the Scottish hills to the west, but there was enough light still that Seamus spotted something lying on the path before him. He glanced around curiously; no one was there. Somewhere in the forest to his right, he heard the sound of a bird flapping its wings. A cold chill ran down his spine. The item on the road turned out to be a comb, made from some off-white, hard material that looked frighteningly like bone.
Gooseflesh sprang up on his arms, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end. What the hell? His heart started to beat faster and he bent towards the comb. As someone afraid of more than one Irish myth-turned-reality, he knew the legends: a comb like that was bad luck. He had no intention of touching it. However, when he stood, he was no longer alone. It seemed, for a terrifying moment, as though his heart had stopped altogether.
Facing him on the road, blocking his way into Hogsmeade, was a banshee. Pale green skin, wild hair, red eyes. He drew his wand, arm shaking. Where was all his Gryffindor courage now? Lupin's lessons from third year came back easily enough, but quick use of a spell revealed that the creature was indeed real and not a boggart. Without warning, the banshee swept across the turf toward him until she was in his face. Seamus couldn't move a muscle of his own volition. The banshee's mouth opened and she screamed. It was the worst moment of his life. He'd never felt pain like what ricocheted through his body like a current, passing through to his feet and back again with no outlet. Even the Carrows' torture didn't hold a candle to the shrieking sound of death.
The next thing Seamus knew, he was lying on the ground. There was a ringing in his ears; he couldn't hear anything else. He was freezing and nauseous and something warm was trickling down the sides of his neck. His entire body trembled. The sky was dark and he could make out stars that swam in his vision, doubling and tripling the longer he looked. He needed help, but there was no one. If he'd known where Susan was, he'd have gone to her immediately.
Apparition wasn't the best plan, but it was all he had. He couldn't control his wand arm, so he twisted his body as best he could in the dirt, concentrating on St. Mungo's. That he splinched himself came as no surprise, but when Seamus found himself in the lobby of the hospital, he almost laughed. Instead, he cried out for someone, anyone, to help him, then promptly passed out.