Author's Note: Okay, so this time I am merely playing around with the characters and trying to show what I think would happen if Harry was hit with the knife in the stomach instead Dobby being hit with the knife in the chest, when they were escaping from the manor…
Well, anyway, humor me and leave a review. It's gonna have two- or maybe three- chapters.
And before I forget- Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing her characters.
Bellatrix- first person point of view
A lot of things are fated to happen, like Ron and Hermione getting together, or like how Hagrid's rock cakes will always ensure a visit to the hospital wing to get your broken tooth fixed, or like Gred and Forge pranking everyone in sight. Fate controls a lot of things. Some things are just meant to be. But the one thing Fate can't control is the human mind. And sometimes the human mind may sometimes make split- second decisions that could change nothing at all, or maybe even change the course of history.
For Bellatrix Lestrange, it was the latter.
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Bellatrix stared in frustration as Dobby- the traitor- was grabbed by Potter- the goblin was slung over his shoulder.
Without any conscious thought, she prepared to throw the knife at the elf. But just as she was about to throw the knife at it, a thought entered her too-far-gone brain.
She didn't kidnap the elf, did she? She kidnapped Potter, the mudblood and the blood traitor. The elf wasn't important. Potter was. And now, the Dark Lord was coming for Potter- who was disapparating before her very eyes.
With a howl of fury, she threw the knife at Potter instead.
The last image she saw of the group was Potter's eyes- wide in shock and pain.
Harry- first person point of view
I turned on the spot, chanting, Bill and Fleur's, Shell Cottage, with all my might, knowing it was a situation of life or death. I had never been more afraid of the possibility of splinching. Suddenly, I felt something hit my stomach. Searing pain spread across my stomach, and I felt a disturbing wetness across it.
I don't remember later how I managed it- but I continued to think about the cottage. I hit solid earth hard, and the bad landing caused searing, unbearable pain to flare across my whole body. I lay on my back, breathless due to the pain. What the hell? What, exactly, was causing such a bad pain in my stomach? I found out I couldn't even lift my head, a sort of numbness spread throughout my whole body. I was kind of glad- I mean, I couldn't stand the pain for a minute longer.
A second later, Dobby's horrified orbs of eyes floated above me. I couldn't see properly. What was happening? I felt a cold fear seep through my bones. "Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter." He looked as if he was about to cry. I would have sat up and told him I was fine, except I felt shaky with pain pounding through every pore in my body.
I zoned out, staring at him till I heard, "… will go get help, Harry Potter, sir- the wizards will save Harry Potter." What? No, he couldn't leave me. I felt panicky as he disappeared with a 'crack', and felt even more so when something suspiciously wet dribbled over my lips and down my chin. "No," I tried to whisper, but all I could manage was a single strangled groan. The pain was taking me under. I felt as if I was on fire, literally- was I dying? But even dying possibly couldn't feel as if someone was twisting and carving out your insides with a blunt screwdriver…
The blackness was closing in. The last thing I saw was Ron's fearful face looming above me, yelling- "No! Harry- don't! Stay awake, please-"
My eyes closed and I let the blackness close in. It wasn't painful at all.
Ron- first person point of view
The day had gone so badly wrong, I thought, looking helplessly at the prone face of one Hermione Granger. Will she end up like- like Neville's parents? I swore that the next time I see Bellatrix Lestrange, I will kill her. I hated her enough, after all.
I looked worriedly at the clock. It was taking far too long for Harry to show up. Where was he? I was worried about Hermione- but I was slowly getting worried for my best mate too.
Hermione stirred, and opened her eyes. "Ron?" she said sleepily, and I smile tenderly. I really had fallen hard. "Don't strain yourself, you were tortured really hard." She frowned at me, slowly sitting up. Fleur immediately pushed a goblet of some smoking liquid into her hands, and she swallowed it. Her cheeks finally regained some colour, and I sighed in relief. Then I realized I didn't have much to be relieved about, since Harry wasn't back yet. Really- what was taking him so long?
Bill stood up. "You did say he was apparating right after you, didn't you?" I knew who he was referring to.
"Yeah," I said, frowning. "Did he-" I broke off. I did not want to cook up a thousand horrible predicaments in which Harry might have landed in, while he was trying to apparate out of Malfoy Manor.
All of a sudden, a crack sounded, and Dobby appeared just as I was getting out my wand. I quickly stuffed my wand in. Dobby looked a state- his eyes were filling with tears, his weird assortment of clothes was grimy and stained with… was that blood?
I bent to his level. "Dobby, where is Harry?"
His lip trembled. "Harry Potter is grievously injured, sir. He is in the front."
My heart took a downward plummet at his words. "Can you take us to him?" I asked, trying not to let my voice shake too much. How grievously injured was he? Dobby held out his hand and Bill, Dean and I took it. When he apparated us there, my heart forgot about plummeting down and simply crashed down somewhere near my toes.
A pale black haired teenager was lying amidst a pool of blood. A pool of blood which was rapidly spreading every minute. I gawked. A silver knife- the silver knife held to Hermione's throat- was clearly sticking out of his sunken in stomach. Bile rose up my throat, but I forced it down. This wasn't the time to loose it. Harry needed me.
"Oh, shit," Dean breathed, and Bill breathed something much more worse. I snapped out of my daze. "W- what do we do?" I couldn't believe this was happening to Harry, of all people. Maybe this was all a horrible dream.
A painful pinch suggested it was not, in fact, a dream.
"We can only levitate him- we could hurt him more if we carry him manually. Ron, help me levitate him. Dean, carry the goblin, will you- he doesn't look good either." Bill brandished his wand.
The goblin looked like a happy, healthy baby compared to Harry, but I bit my tongue and helped Bill levitate Harry. He was breathing in such a shallow way, and he was pale- too pale- and why the bloody hell wasn't he moving? I tried to keep my breathing under control. I couldn't afford to lose it- Harry was counting on me.
When we entered the cottage, Bill tersely called for Fleur who stopped and swore in French. "Fleur is a good healer- she has the requirements," he explained as I looked at him quizzically. Hermione leapt off the couch, her face paling. "What happened?" she asked, but Fleur shook her head, glancing at the floating body in apprehension. "The room- 'e cannot lie down 'ere."
She shoo-ed us all out- something about all of us bothering her while she worked- and Hermione looked at me fearfully. "What happened? How is- how did- oh my god, did he get stabbed?" What colour regained back in her cheeks was lost again and I hastily pushed her back into a chair. Fleur suddenly opened the door, ushering us all in.
My best mate was lying on the bed, looking as pale as the bedsheets- which were white, by the way- lying as still as- well, as death. "We 'ave run out of bandages." Fleur said worriedly, twisting her fingers. I wondered what they did to make them run out, then remembered that a war was going on, obviously, and they would probably treat any injured Order members if Fleur was indeed an accomplished healer.
Hermione swayed but said determinedly, "I can get them- where do we get them?" I snorted, saying, "You are staying here, Hermione- you can't even stand straight on two feet."
"This isn't the time to fight, Harry's losing blood," Bill said tensely. "Ron and I will get them from Mum's. Any thing more-" he broke off when Harry stirred.
I felt a slight bit of relief when Harry opened his eyes. Yeah, he looked like Death warmed over, he probably felt like Death warmed over- but at least he wasn't totally out, was he? If my best friend died, I wouldn't know what to do.
Harry's normally bright green eyes were cloudy with pain and unconsciousness. He blinked twice, and with a sinking feeling I realized he didn't recognize me. "Harry? Mate, this is Ron," I said urgently- surely knife wounds do not cause memory loss- when he said, quite clearly, "Ginny…" His eyelids closed and did not open again.
The room was so quiet that if a wand fell to the floor, it would have been as loud as an explosion.
"Why," Bill demanded, "Was he saying Ginny's name?"
Ah, crap.
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Bill- first person point of view
"Wait- Ron!" I yelled, as we apparated at Aunt Muriel's. He, meanwhile, steadfastly ignored me and hammered on the door. As we heard a commotion inside the house take place, Ron sighed. "Harry dated Ginny last year," he said quietly.
"Right," I said. "And they somehow still go strong?"
Before he could say anything, the wand flew out and Mum was at the door. "Bill! Oh my- Ron!" Ginny slouched up behind her. "Ask the question, Mum- see if they are mad axe murderers." Something in her voice gave away her bitterness.
"Ginny knows that I pushed her down the creek when I was eight but Charlie took the blame," Ron said confidently. Ginny gave a nod. After I said my bit, Mum swooped down on Ron. "Oh, Ron! I was always so suspicious about that creek incident," she sniffled, clutching Ron like a drowning man clutching at straws. Ron grimaced, but even he looked tear-eyed. "Hey mum, great to see you too."
I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "We aren't here for a social visit. We need to have bandages and some blood replenishing potions," I said confidently, and then I caught side of my fast- paling sister. "What- what happened? Where's Hermione? Scratch that, where the hell's Harry?" she directed the last at Ron, who winced.
Great. Really, get to the most hardest question, why don't you?
Ron looked apprehensive, "Look, don't flip- but, er, Harrygotstabbed."
"WHAT?!"
"Yeah- don't yell, Ginny, how do you think I feel?- so we need more bandages and potions-"
Mum rushed out immediately and Ginny had tears pooling in her eyes. Instantly feeling helpless, I gathered her into my arms and said sadly, "Don't cry, Firetop- he will be okay."
Instead, of, you know, saying, "Yeah," she pushed me away. Hard. She clenched her fists at her side and shouted, really loud, "HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT HE WILL BE OKAY? How many people survive such attacks, huh? He- he promised me in Hogwarts that he will be alright- and see what happened! How can it be okay-"
She broke off, eyes streaming and I gingerly rubbed my ears. That girl can outdo her mother in terms of yelling. I should know. There was an awkward moment of silence, interrupted with Ginny's intermittent sniffles. Mum came rushing in again, arms laden with bandages and potion bottles. She arched an eyebrow at Ginny's tears, but didn't say anything. "I am coming with you, Bill," Mum told me, and I nodded. "Ginny," I started, "Stay safe here-"
She cut me off. "Hell no," she snorted. "I am coming with you- no, mum, I have been cooped up with Aunt Muriel for so long my brain might implode." With Aunt Muriel close, anyone's brain might implode, and I tried to counter. "Ginny, it isn't-"
"I will stay at the cottage only- what could go wrong?" Ginny asked, and Ron said slowly, "Hey- she might be of some help." Ginny grinned triumphantly.
I heaved a sigh. I was getting too old for this. Then I looked at mum's tired lines of her face, at her weary eyes and grey strands of hair I had never seen before, and decided I really shouldn't speak.
"Okay," I said, annoyed. "Ron, side- apparate Ginny, will you? She is your responsibility- don't look at me like that, do you think I like this? Mum, c'mon, I'll help with the bandages and stuff."
Ginny- first person point of view
Once Ron had apparated me to the cottage, I shook myself free of him and looked expectantly at the little hut. After so many days of worrying, crying, pleading and praying, I was finally getting to see him- and then I remembered it was while he was gravely injured. He just had to get hurt, didn't he? I felt tears prick my eyes. No, I won't give up- he had to be okay. He was Harry Potter- he had to be okay. "So- where is he?"
Ron pulled me in the direction of the cottage. "He's in a bad way," he said grimly. I had never seen my brother so serious. That meant Harry was really badly hurt. My stomach clenched painfully.
We pushed open the door, and immediately Fleur was on the opposite end. I pushed in past her, and found Hermione. She didn't look good either. A scar that looked like a slit at the side of her throat, so pale she could have passed for a ghost- if I didn't know better, I would have said she was tortured. Then I realized that Harry had been hurt, and immediately asked, "Where is he?"
Hermione understood. She grabbed my shoulder. "Hey, look, I need to tell you that he doesn't look good-" I shook her hand off. "Where is he?"
She silently pointed to a slightly ajar door. I rushed in, mum and Hermione on my heels.
I stopped at the sight that greeted me.