A/N: Hello, everyone! Sorry for the wait for this chapter, along with the length and speed, and whatnot. But it definitely for a reason, and as of two weeks from today, I will be free to have more time to work on updates! As always, reviews and the like are incredibly appreciated, and please enjoy!
"Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
A very unpleasantly loud and excited chattering began to spread throughout the lions who had collected in the space, on their way to the common room. Sirius Black, inside the castle? Having gotten past the Dementors? Trying to break into Gryffindor?
It was very exciting news, indeed.
Very excited news for everyone who was not Cassiopeia McKinnon, it seemed. The excited babbling of her House seemed to echo and ring strangely in her ears as her pale hands gripped at the banister of the staircase tightly, nearly turning her knuckles transparent as they strained against her skin. Her spectacular view of the hall became very spotty, and the Halloween feast began to churn inside of her stomach unpleasantly. It began to feel impossibly difficult to breathe, and desperately, she shut her eyes and let her body lean forward against the banister for support. Each and every tiny hair on her body began to stand on its end, soon after being followed by gooseflesh and-strangely enough, also sweat-that covered each inch of her skin.
It was suddenly very cold.
"Cassi?" The voice was very difficult to hear through the loud throbbing of her blood rushing in her ears. She was too afraid to risk opening her eyes to see who had spoken, for fear of her dinner going over the side of the stairs to the floor, some several hundred feet at the least, below. A careful hand rested on her elbow, and Cassiopeia nearly jumped out of her skin. "Cass," the voice repeated, and somewhere, in the back of her mind she was able to still process thought. Harry.
The sound of something very much like shuffling feet began to sound from each direction, and soon enough there were voices behind her once again, words she couldn't quite make out through the ringing in her ears.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry's voice held a note of panic, and his fingers tightened slightly into her arm. "Professor, I think she's ill. She can't make it all the way back down to the Hall."
A very brief, but altogether too long, beat of silence passed.
"Take her to Madame Pomfrey, Harry." The quiet voice of the headmaster finally said, "Wait for Professor McGonagall. I will send her to be along for you."
There was quiet shuffling next, and a moment later Cass forced her eyes open and her gaze to go in the direction of the hand that remained curled onto her arm.
"Can you walk?" The concern in Harry's voice was obvious, and despite every single nerve in her body that screamed for her not to move at all, she managed to nod. It was a terrifying concept, particularly with the ways her body seemed to be trying to keep her in place. But for all she knew, walking might make her feel better, in some sense at the very least.
Harry lifted her arm and dropped it around his shoulders, putting his own around her middle to try and help support her.
In any other situation, it would have been completely mortifying. Even if it was Harry.
But this isn't a normal situation, McKinnon.
Several torturous, drawn out minutes later, the pair managed to make it back to the first floor. Between both Cass and Harry's knowledge of shortcuts, it didn't take nearly as long as it could have. However, with as exhausted as the young witch felt by the time that they got there, it was a miracle they seemed to have arrived at all.
"Madame Pomfrey!" Harry called out as they arrived, loosening his arm slightly as Cass managed to steady herself a bit.
From her quarters, the matron of Hogwarts, Poppy Pomfrey, emerged. Her robe was tied firmly around her into place, visible underneath the cloak that she had quickly thrown over her at the worried call. Dark, graying hair was falling out of the bun she had it tied into on the back of her head as she approached, her face registering shock as she took in the teenagers.
"Good heavens," she whispered, taking hold of Cassiopeia's other hand and steering her towards the nearest bed, at which point Cass gratefully sat down. Pride be damned. "What's happened?"
Harry shot a concerned, questioning look towards Cass. Even with how exhausted and nauseous she still felt, even she could feel the volumes in which that look held; all of the questions he wanted her to answer before offering any sort of answers to the nurse. Very imperceptibly, Cass offered a brief nod with her eyes, grateful that Madame Pomfrey had seemed to turn her attention towards her third year friend.
"I…" The single word pulled out of him slowly, "Sirius Black got into the castle. He tried getting into Gryffindor Tower and the Fat Lady ran off. We were...well, we'd been trying to get into the tower when Professor Dumbledore found out what had happened. He sent everyone to the Great Hall, but Cass...she got ill." Harry explained, shooting several concerned glances towards the older lion in the process.
Madame Pomfrey looked as if she had several questions that she wanted to ask, the shock obvious on her face. It was obvious enough to tell what it was she was trying to understand; it was the same that the rest of the school, certainly, was trying to understand: how had Sirius Black gotten in?
Even yet, the nurse didn't let her own surprise her into the way of doing her job. She turned her attention away from Harry and back towards the weakened girl sitting on the bed. "Goodness." She muttered under her breath once again, resting her hand against Cassiopeia's cool and sticky forehead, "What happened?"
The nurse was looking towards Cassi, but the question was obviously intended for either one of them. Something for which Cassiopeia herself was personally grateful; her voice wasn't something she entirely trusted to work yet just yet.
"She got pale...really pale," Harry said, sending another quick glance towards Cass in the process. "And she was swaying back and forth...Oliver thought she was having some sort of fit." Her eyes shot up towards her lightning scarred friend at that; she hadn't noticed Oliver anywhere near them on the stairs at all. "Professor Dumbledore told me to bring her to you."
"And rightfully so!" Madame Pomfrey said, turning her attention back towards the young witch. "I have some questions, child, and then we'll get you some rest." Her attention turned back towards Harry sharply, "You, Mr. Potter, better be back off to the Hall before anyone worries."
"I'm supposed to wait for Professor McGonagall."
A very obviously frustrated, albeit quiet, sigh escaped from Madame Pomfrey, "Very well." She said, nodding towards the empty bed near Cassi's, with only one between them. "You'll wait there."
Harry nodded obediently, and went where he was told, his hands twisting themselves together and then unwinding, before the process began again, over and over.
The matron turned back towards Cassiopeia then, "If you don't feel fit to speak, a simple nod or head shake will do." She instructed, to which Cassi nodded. "Any dizziness?" Nod. "Shivering?" Another nod, "Sweats, at all?" Nod. "Nauseated?" A pause, and then another nod, "Is the nausea still present?" Nod. "Is there anything else that's remained?" She shook her head, "A bit of panic then, I'd imagine." The nurse said quietly, rising and beginning to head towards a nearby cabinet, "We'll get you a bit of Sleeping Draught to help you sleep."
Footsteps began to echo down the hallway towards them, and Cass felt her eyes shoot up towards the door immediately. A fresh wave of dread washed over her; what if it was him? Harry cleared his throat quietly where he was, and very slowly, Cass turned her head back towards him.
"It's okay," he mouthed towards her, and not even a moment later, the Head of Gryffindor House herself stepped in.
Never one to look as if anything had touched her at all, Professor McGonagall somehow managed to hold the same air to her as Cassiopeia had ever known her to have. Her gaze turned in the direction in which she was sitting as she entered, and for a moment, Cass could have sworn she saw the woman's face soften in concern before turning towards Harry, "Well, Mr. Potter. We'd best get you to the Hall."
Harry nodded and rose, sending a reassuring smile towards Cassiopeia before he was gone.
The whole of the Great Hall was abuzz when he finally arrived; not only Gryffindor House had been brought down for the night, it seemed, as masses much larger than simply the Gryffindors were gathered everywhere. It was obvious that nobody had bothered trying to go to bed, though there were hundreds upon hundreds of plush, purple sleeping bags everywhere.
"Ah. Harry," the familiar, typically unpleasant, voice of Percy sounded from somewhere nearby amidst the noise. "Good." He said as he appeared. Harry wasn't slow to notice the way in which Percy was holding himself amongst the commotion; as a person of importance. "You'd best be finding a sleeping back and a place to sleep, Harry. Lights out will be soon."
Harry nodded solemnly, not bothering to make word of how he didn't plan to get much sleep at all as he reached for a sleeping bag and began to scan the room for any sign of Ron or Hermione.
"Harry?" Another voice called out, quieter than Percy's had been, but loud enough to pull Harry from his concentration and penetrate through the noise in the hall. Turning in the direction of the voice, emerald eyes rested on a familiar Hufflepuff, pushing his way through the students as unintrusively as he could.
"Cedric," Harry's voice sounded distant even in his own ears as he greeted him, unwilling to let his eyes quit looking for his friends.
"I was just wondering if you've seen Cass anywhere." Cedric's voice cut through his concentration yet again, and this time, his words had Harry's full attention, "We've got this meeting place, and she...well, she never showed up. The twins haven't seen her, I was hoping she'd be with you."
There was a glint in Cedric's eyes, clear even through the shockingly dim lighting of the Hall, that Harry knew was concern. A brief pang of guilt shot through his stomach; he had seen the two of them together. But it had never hit him before, quite how connected they must have been.
"Yeah, she was," Harry nodded, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. "I had to take her to the hospital." He added quietly, another brief pang of guilt hitting him as the concern magnified on Cedric's face.
"W-What happened?" He asked, stumbling over his words as if they suddenly had decided to stop coming, "Is she okay?"
"Madame Pomfrey seemed to think so. And I've yet to hear her be wrong," Harry said, in an attempt at proving some sort of comfort in a particularly awkward conversation. "She...well, I don't know what happened. Peeves told Dumbledore that Black had ran off the Fat Lady off, and she got ill. I heard Madame Pomfrey say it was panic."
Harry couldn't be sure, especially with the dimmed lighting of the Hall, but he could almost be certain that Cedric's face had seemed to pale.
Cedric looked as if he wanted to say something else, when a voice rang out, loud and shrill and familiar. The look on the Hufflepuff's face changed then, and he nodded, "Go on."
Turning, Harry was barely prepared for Hermione, flinging her arms around him.
"Where were you?" She hissed into his ear.
"Bloody hell, let him breathe," Ron muttered.
A call for lights out ran throughout the Hall then, by none other than Percy himself, and Harry nodded towards a nearby corner, "C'mon." He muttered, before beginning to unwrap himself from Hermione's grasp, pulling his sleeping back towards the space.
