The Awakening

A white ceiling. Nothing else came to her mind when she woke up. She couldn't move a single part of her body, except one eye. She didn't know that room, but she guessed it. With all the pain of her body, she must have been in the hospital. Her exhaustion prevented her from remembering – maybe because of some drugs she was under. But slowly, some flashes came to her mind. Some flashes of bright flames, and great terror. She didn't wish to remember, even if the pain made her realize it hadn't been a nightmare. Her mind stayed blank for a long time, and she fell in a state of half-sleep.

But when she opened her eye again, she noticed a familiar object near her. It was a pile of Daily Prophets. Her eye sparkled. She could know! She could finally have answers! She wanted to reach it, but her body didn't obey. She wasn't about to give up. She first tried to move her hand. Her wrist creaked, and so did every finger. After easing up her hand, she slightly moved her forearm, and the elbow followed. She reached the bed's edge, but hadn't the strength to go on. She felt like thousands of needles were piercing her. But she wanted to know too desperately…In an ultimate effort, she lifted her whole arm towards the table, and caught the newspapers. Her fingers creaked again as she was dragging them to her. She was relieved, but she realized that her left arm didn't move at all. And that just thinking about moving it was very painful. The pain brought back to her mind flashes of memory, where she saw the skeleton of her arm slowly burn in front of her eyes. She gave up. She managed to read some titles of the newspaper, it was talking about the new ministry, and the new peace, and the fall of the Dark Lord. That news didn't have anything to do with her. No joy, no sadness. She still didn't know what was going on; she had to search deeper. She put all her weight on her arm and rose up, and succeeded to sit down, even as the pain clawed at her. After a moment, catching her breath, she put the first newspaper on her lap, and opened it up. She spent long moments reading them, going back in time, and learning all that happened. So, everything was real. Hogwarts really had been destroyed. The Dark Lord fell. Deatheaters were arrested. "All was well"…
So why was it hurting so much? Why was she so sad, and so lonely? What were all these people happy for? Simply because the world was still turning? A tear fell down the page as her ribcage was shaken by her sobs – and it was causing her wounds a lot of pain. But finally, she found an entire page covered with portraits. All the soldiers and victims fallen during the fight. There were a lot of faces she knew. People she met, people she just talked to, people she saw, people she heard about. Wizard's world was so small.
But neither Rickard nor her mother was on that page, and she felt relieved. Unfortunately, there was someone here that shouldn't be gone. Her tears dried out, and she remained silent, looking at all these dead smiling faces. Her mind was blocked far away, buried into the past.

"This way! Everybody follows me! Quick! Quick!!"
She was dragged into the flow of students fleeing the castle, desperately looking behind, searching through the thousands of faces. She was stopped and bumped; trying to make her way back to the castle.
"Flute!! Where are you going?!" shouted Olivia.
"Rickard's not here!! I have to take him home!!!"
"No, wait, don't go!!"
Her friend couldn't persuade her, and Flute disappeared in the castle's corridors. While she was climbing down one of the many stair cases, she'd just missed the blonde hair of her little brother running up the stairs.

She couldn't think about anything else; she had to take him home. What if he was hurt? He should be so scared... She had to protect him, to take care of him. She didn't want to lose him. Not after dad. But she was already out of breath, and the shots, the screams, and the explosions were scaring her. She did her best to avoid the fights; she knew it was dangerous, but she couldn't leave Rickard alone.

When she entered in the seventh floor, she suddenly heard her name and recognized the voice as her best friend Camelia :
"Flute! That's blocked! They are everywhere!! We have to go!"
"No!! I won't go without Rickard!"
"What are you saying?! It's too dangerous, we can't go that way!! Come!"
"NO!! I have to find him!"
"Dammit, Flute ! They are killing everyone! They, they killed Joey! I saw them! We have to go, NOW!!"
And Camelia grabbed Flute's arm, and dragged her to the stairs. Suddenly, a wall in front of them shuddered and collapsed; a wave of flames unfurled, blocking their way. They tried to escape, tried to climb down. The demonic fire followed them, as they reached the sixth floor, and soon all the hallway's walls were ablaze. The heat was suffocating, screaming was pointless. They tried in vain to stop it with their magic, but the flames were just growing and devouring all the room, with no hope to escape. Flute heard a huge crackle, and she looked at one of the walls. She saw the statue of a weeping woman, torn up from the wall, creeping down in a shower of bricks.
"CAMELIA!! LOOK OUT!!!"
Camelia turned her black eyes behind her. Too late. The statue shattered against the floor with a deafening crash and a cloud of smoke. Flute stood up, forgetting about the flames, and called the name of her friend several times. Then she ran towards the mountain of stones, and tried to help her. After heaving up a section of rubble the first thing to be found was a brown hand, soaked in blood.
"Camelia...CAMELIA! Are you alright?! Answer me!! ANSWER ME CAMELIA!!"
She was brought up to reality by a violent pain; her robe was beginning to burn. She tried to extinguish it, but her hands were too badly burned, and quickly she realized that the flames had completely cornered her. She panicked, and she completely forgot about Rickard, Camelia, and everything else. She just wanted to stay alive. She climbed on the rocks, but the flames were on the other side, too. A burst of flames sprung out, and she felt a horrible pain in her head, just as if something exploded in her brain. She lost her balance, fell down the floor, and the flames caught her. She released a blood curtailing shriek. She had never felt so much pain. She tried to fight, but all her movements were simply made the problem worse. She tried to escape, but she could only see a sea of flames. She shouted, and cried for help, afraid to die, but the pain just grown more and more intense. Every bit of her skin was screaming, she saw one of her hand melting in front of her, and she shrieked!

"Levicorpus!"
She didn't understand what happened, but it was cold, and it felt so relieving for a second. But the healing spells weren't efficient for so many wounds, and quickly the pain came back, as if every bit of her body was torn apart. She couldn't see, her head was throbbing, but she guessed several people were upset, screaming and apparently giving orders. She soon was covered by something soft by a tall man wearing black. She passed out some seconds later.

And now she just was staring at the round face of Camelia, as big as a stamp on that newspaper, smiling at her. Just as if it was not that bad that her date of birth and death were so close under her photo. She cried. She just didn't know what was more painful between her body and her heart.