It comes without warning.
"-Quaffle's caught by Smith, who passes to Zabin- oh, nope, not quite: Bennett expertly intercepts! She makes the pass to Potter and it looks like he might sco-"
There. Right there.
Crack.
It blazes like a fire on impact. I scream, I know that I do, though the sound gets lost in the collective gasp of the surrounding audience; their yells and shrieks and cries for help a tone-deaf symphony of shock all around me. How quickly they fade, and how soon they are gone.
"-careful not to move him!"
"-what the damage is, yet?"
"-waking up, I think!"
"Mr. Potter, can you hear me?"
There's a numbness in me. Had there not just been an all-encompassing inferno, a torturous pain of immeasurable magnitude? I remember... Crack. Scream. Fire. Fade. Gone. And now... I am without a body, it seems. I cannot feel a thing. I cannot feel a thing except for trapped. All I feel is trapped...
"Mr. Potter? James? Can you hear me? Mr. Potter?"
My eyes flutter open to find a half-dozen or so blurred faces staring down at me. Behind their heads is a familiar stone ceiling, instead of the clear blue of a sky I had only just been a part of.
How did I end up here?
I have to move, I must, and so I try to turn my head, but-
"No, no, no; don't move! You cannot move, do you hear me?" My eyes alone dart to meet the owner of the voice and I slowly regain recognition as her face becomes clearer. Though her worry lines are deeper than I've ever seen before, the unmistakeable scars upon her face are as telling as ever. "Mr. Potter, I know this must be scary for you, but I need you to remain perfectly still unless I tell you otherwise, alright?" My immediate instinct is to nod, but I fight the eager impulse. "You may speak, but you must also stay still, do you understand?"
I try to say yes, but to no avail. I try to say help, but I am only silent. I try to say Madame Brown, what's happened; what's wrong with me? but I can only move my lips in a poor imitation of the thought. And so I grunt, instead.
"Mr. Potter," she says to me again, as firmly as can be managed, "I need you to move your toes for me, okay? Can you wiggle them for me? Just your toes." Her eyes bore into mine as she says the words, making certain I've comprehended exactly what is being asked of me. When I grunt my understanding, she turns her gaze down to my feet.
I do as I'm told. I try.
"Did you-" she begins after a moment, but cuts herself off when our eyes reconnect. The increased worry on her face does nothing to comfort me. She takes a steadying breath. "Just... give it another go, yeah? Try to move your toes."
Again, I do as I'm told. I try. I try harder.
"Okay, you can... stop," she says, actively avoiding my eyes. Instead, she turns her glance to the Headmistress beside her, a look of deep resignation on both of their faces. "He needs to be taken to Saint Mungo's right away," she whispers, but still I hear every word. "He can't be moved off the gurney, though, which means we can't Floo him there, so we'll need to call for a transportation team to meet us at the front doors, and they'll get him there safely for us instead."
Headmistress McGonagall gives a solemn nod before turning over her shoulder. "Neville," she asks, "would you?"
Professor Longbottom nods without hesitation before hurriedly making his way out of the room.
Madame Brown gives her wand a quick swish, until suddenly I am levitating and slowly floating towards the door. We move in relative silence through the corridors and down the staircases, and it is only now that my mind begins to somewhat comprehend any of what's just happened. I cannot stop thinking now about that fire, that agony, that sound...
Something cracked and there was pain, unbearable pain, and there were cries and there was falling and fading and toes, and toes, and wiggle your toes, and I cannot. I cannot feel anything but trapped.
I wish that I could feel the pain. The pain would mean that I could feel...
"Do you hear that?" someone asks, shaking me from my down-spiral of thoughts.
"Oh no..." someone else groans, and this time I hear it, too; the collective shuffling of large numbers of feet; the collective chatter of large numbers of voices.
"Someone go ahead of us and make sure there's space to safely come through!" Madame Brown demands, and I hear a few people run ahead of us.
Soon after, the voice of the Headmistress fills the hall as all other conversation quickly quiets down. "Move aside; move aside this instant! Stay at the wall until you are given permission to move again! Anyone who disobeys will have detention for the rest of the year; do not test me!"
We round a final corner, and though I cannot see ahead of me, the absolute silence that follows tells me that I've now been spotted. I must be an absolute sight, I reckon; surrounded by worried staff members, floating carefully beside them; stiff, helpless. I think if I could see me now, I'd have gone silent, too.
As we slowly begin passing the students, all pressed to the walls on either side of me, I can only just catch glimpses of them in my periphery, frozen statues of people, all too scared to so much as breath. The further along we go, the more intensely I hate the silence, and the more humiliated I become.
How did I end up here?
Today was meant to be so simple; just defeat Slytherin and take a heavy lead in both the Quidditch and House Cups. I'd been so certain that we would, too. It had been easy to ignore the fact that all the other Houses were rooting desperately against us, against me, because all that had mattered was guiding my team to victory and taking that comfortable lead. Instead now I am surrounded by every person who was against me; exposed and vulnerable and unable to so much as move.
I think they must be happy to see how far I've fallen...
The thought barely finishes forming before I pass a group of Hufflepuff's, who catch my eye when one of them makes a sudden movement. I don't know who it is that starts it, exactly, but suddenly there is clapping; slow and on its own, at first, but it quickly attracts other pairs of hands, all growing in speed and volume and enthusiasm until suddenly it's an uproar of whistles and cheers. To my left, I pass the unmistakeable group of the still fully-uniformed Slytherin Quidditch team, all clapping for me as loudly as anyone else. It passes in my mind for the briefest of moments that perhaps the celebration is because they're glad to see me go, but the thought is indefinitely squashed when people begin yelling things like You're going to be okay, James, and Get well soon! Suddenly I feel an overwhelming gratitude for every House, for every person, surrounding me now.
When we reach the end of the corridor, the unmistakeable amount of red-haired students that catch in the corner of my eye, tell me that my siblings and cousins are gathered here for me. I catch a few of their expressions - Albus' forehead in a worried wrinkle, Lily's face tear-stained and red, Fred offering a comforting smile as he claps louder than anyone - and I feel... I feel... I feel...
I cannot feel my body; not my legs, nor my arms, nor fingers, nor toes, but at this moment I feel... I feel... I feel... not alone.
Author's Note: I wrote this last night for a last-minute competition (Prompt: House Unity) on another site in just five crazy hours from 10pm to 3am, so... yeah. Be gentle! LOL It's not my best by any stretch of the imagination, but I hope you got at least a shred of something positive out of it! And please do review, if you have a spare moment, I'd truly appreciate it. :)