Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted publishers own Harry Potter.
This is a work of fanfiction: no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 36
There was a split second between the moment Harry awoke from the latest dose of Dreamless Sleep and the moment he remembered.
In that split second, he knew, even without exercising his sense, that the Hospital Wing was more crowded than normal. The air was thick with the tension of people making a conscious effort to be quiet, thick with a dread expectancy; that questions as yet unasked would find answers.
Thick with grief.
And then Harry remembered.
Ron.
His jaw shuddered involuntarily, and his body felt almost as if it was attempting to physically purge itself of the pain. His incoherent moan brought the swift click of heels to his side, and Madam Pomfrey's face finally loomed into the range of his limited focus.
Harry had been to the Hospital Wing on numerous occasions during his four years at Hogwarts. He'd grown used to Madam Pomfrey's somewhat brusque bedside manner, which seemed to carry implicit the accusation that her patients only arrived at her door with self-inflicted injury.
But not today.
For the first time, Harry saw that the mediwizard's mask of professional care had been replaced with a face almost overflowing with compassion.
"Are you in pain?" she asked, the softness of her voice only heightening Harry's alarm, the question itself presumably a reflex of training. Then, as Harry dully shook his head, as though he were immersed in treacle, she added, "I'm so, so sorry... you do remember, don't you?"
Harry gave the vaguest of nods. Oh yes, he remembered.
Ron. His best friend of four years. Ron, who had been with him as they eluded Fluffy, chasing the Philosopher's Stone. Ron, who'd helped him rescue Hermione from Quirrell's troll. Ron, who went with him into the Chamber of Secrets.
The best friend with the almost completely inexplicable fascination with the Chudley Cannons, and a fondness for Sugar Quills. Brilliant at chess, but unfortunate with domestic animals. Ron had been a part of Harry's life in almost everything he'd gone through at Hogwarts; the same sense of humour, the same disdain for Trelawney and distaste for Snape.
Ron, who had willingly born the burden of being forever in the shadow of the boy with the lightning bolt scar he'd met on the train.
Ron - the person Harry would miss the most, in the words of the Second Task.
He was gone. And whatever means that the judges had gone to in arriving at the name of Harry's hostage for the Second Task, he knew now that they'd chosen the right person.
He wished he didn't know.
Madam Pomfrey was re-arranging the bed's pillows as he affixed his glasses, letting the rest of the room snap into focus. Cho was in the bed on his right, hair still matted with dust, tear stains still evident on her face. She looked across, and tried to smile, but the effort only resulted in her lips quivering, and she returned her attention to the mug of coffee held firmly in her hands.
There were two beds beyond Cho, containing Hermione and then Parvati. Neither seemed to be awake yet, though, and Harry quickly turned to check the bed on his left, which contained Dean, who was also asleep. His dark skin was now veined with faint red lines, residual scars where the skin had torn from the previous night, Harry assumed. His arms and face were crazed like drought-parched earth.
Dean was an Animagus, Harry suddenly realised, looking at the still form in the bed, marvelling that he'd kept the ability quiet. Although perhaps he hadn't been fully ready to undergo the transformation, and this was the price he'd paid.
"There are people to see you," Madam Pomfrey informed him, "are you awake enough?"
Harry wondered what right he had to even consider refusing. His best friend was dead; in the face of that, who would even consider hiding from people, no matter who they might be? "Mmmm," Harry assented, shifting himself to a more comfortable sitting position.
As Madam Pomfrey's heels once more clicked across the ward's tiled floor, Harry chanced another look at Cho, but she remained unmoving, staring at her coffee, seemingly oblivious to the world. Azkaban. He'd put her through Azkaban; he wondered what echoes she'd heard. Wondered, and yet didn't want to know. He wondered if she'd ever forgive him.
And then he wondered if he had a right to such forgiveness.
"Harry, you're safe!" Molly Weasley's voice, fractured and quavering, carried across the ward, causing even Cho to note the visitor's entrance. Mrs Weasley's eyes were puffed and bloodshot, and her appearance dishevelled.
Harry moved his mouth, trying to convey some kind of apology, or greeting, or... anything, but no words came out. He just sat their dumbstruck, trying to comprehend how he was supposed to even begin to put into words the enormity of the impact Ron's death had had.
As it happened, he didn't need to speak, as Mrs Weasley wrapped him in a motherly hug, her own body convulsing with tears.
"He loved you, Harry," said Mrs Weasley, as Harry felt hot tears fall onto his forehead, "and..." she never finished that sentence, however, and the two stayed locked in their embrace for a short while.
Harry fervently wished that there was some way he could demonstrate the pain of his loss, share with the Weasleys just how much Ron had meant to him, but words couldn't even begin to describe it, and he felt his own tears fall as he pondered his inadequacy.
Mrs Weasley finally released him, sniffing, and dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho watching on with a slight smile. "Cho," Harry indicated her to Mrs Weasley, "was with us. And Cedric... she and Cedric, the Third Task..." More advanced explanations, ones that perhaps made sense, were beyond him at that moment, but Mrs Weasley seemed to have picked up enough information, and went round the bed to Cho's side.
Harry saw her take Cho's hand, and looked away, again examining Dean's prone body as a murmured, stuttering conversation took place to his right. McGonagall had said Dean would be alright, in time, but what about Seamus? Was he now a werewolf? Or would they not know until the full moon waned, tomorrow morning?
Hermione and Parvati were on the other side of Cho, but Harry wilfully refrained from looking in that direction, not wanting to intrude on whatever was happening between Mrs Weasley and Cho. Still, his sense told him that they were alive, so that was something.
Taking as deep a breath as he dared, Harry exhaled slowly as he recalled more moments from Ron's life - his awestruck amazement when Fred and George had given him the Nimbus 2001. Barely three months ago. His new dress-robes - never worn.
The unflinching determination in his eyes when he completely wiped the board in chess. His exuberation when Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup in his third year. So many memories. And now they were stopped.
He remembered his final conversation with Ron, and in particular, the red-headed Gryffindor's request that he and Cho tell Hermione that he'd said 'Hi'.
For some inexplicable reason, Harry felt it was imperative that he pass that message on.
Neville and Ginny came in a little later, Ginny mute, pale and drawn, and distressed at the sight of Dean's crazed skin. Neville appeared to be shellshocked, "Sprout, Harry. Sprout..." he kept on murmuring, taking his favourite teacher's betrayal hard.
Ginny hadn't been able to speak, and Harry found that he couldn't find any words to say to her, so the two squeezed hands as Ginny stood, trembling by the bed, Neville next to her, half supporting her with an arm about her waist.
It occurred to Harry that he still didn't have the full picture as to what had happened the previous night, once Ron, Dean and Seamus had returned from Beauxbatons, but there would be time enough for the detail later on. Knowing things didn't change them.
And yet he remained bewildered. Ron had made it back to safety. Hogwarts. The safest place in the wizarding world. He and Cho had stormed the dungeons in Voldemort's private castle, and emerged with two hostages rescued. Ron had arrived back to safety, and, somehow, he'd died. Not died, Harry corrected himself, Ron'd been killed.
Perhaps nowhere was safe, anymore. If it ever had been.
Mrs Weasley, Neville and Ginny left together, muttering something about breakfast, although Harry seriously doubted that anyone had an appetite. However, once the patients had the ward to themselves, he slid out of bed, and over to see Cho. "Hi."
Cho smoothed down the sheets, inviting him to perch on the edge of the bed, next to her, as she weakly returned the greeting, "Hey you."
Taking her hand in his, Harry looked into Cho's fathomless dark eyes, seeing only pain and hurt in them, "I'm so, so, sorry... I didn't know it would be that bad..."
"It was hard... so hard. I heard... voices. Cedric... the Third Task."
Harry was lost for words, and wished there was some physical means to convey adequately what he felt about her, for her. She'd been forced to relieve horrors that he'd been instrumental in engineering, entirely at his behest. Guilt squared, as it were. If he hadn't told Cedric to take the cup... and if he'd sent Cho back with Ron, and Seamus and Dean...
But then he'd never have got Parvati and Hermione out of their cells.
Cho was whispering, now, "...sorry, so sorry for you... and, and Ron. And Dean... Seamus. Everyone," she shook her head, disbelievingly, as the two tried to assimilate the enormity of the night's events.
Not really knowing what possessed him, Harry leant forward and kissed Cho's forehead, once again feeling the masonry dust on his lips. "You're so, so pretty," he whispered, before sliding back off the bed, returning to his own, their fingertips stretching out the contact between them as he stepped away.
Seamus was next in, looking drawn, with dark circles around his eyes, and his arm in a sling.
"'lo Harry, Cho," he mumbled, entering the ward on the balls of his feet, as though expecting to have to leap away from danger at any second.
Harry mumbled a response, whilst Cho simply nodded, tightly, eyeing Seamus warily as he perched himself at the foot of Harry's bed. "Sorry, man," apologised Harry, still trying to come to terms with the possibility that Seamus might now be a werewolf.
Seamus massaged the back of his neck with his good hand, whilst staring at an indeterminate spot on the wall, somewhere between Harry and Cho. "Mmm," he acknowledged, seemingly on another planet. "Dean?" he glanced across at Dean's prostrate body, evidently still under some kind of sleeping charm.
"McGonagall said he'd be alright," replied Harry, not feeling any conviction behind his reassurance. "Sorry... it's not fair," he continued, shaking his head, "you two shouldn't have... and Ron..."
"That was a bitch," said Seamus, in a strangely lifeless voice. He twisted on the bed to look directly at Harry, "Sprout. I mean, we made it back to the tower thing..."
"Yeah, I know... I tracked you..."
"You're going to have to tell us about that," observed Seamus, a trace of interest flickering into his voice, and some of the old spark alight in his eyes. But that soon passed, as he went back to his narrative, "So we got back to the tower, and then Ron went through with Dean, and I followed..."
"Yeah," prompted Harry, watching Cho out of the corner of his eye. She seemed uncomfortable. His mind went back to the conversation at the start of term, and her dislike for werewolves... but this was Seamus. Surely, he thought, she wouldn't feel wary of Seamus?
"Anyway, the three of us got back, and Ginny went spare at the sight of Dean." Seamus let out a sigh, and craned his neck back, eyes squeezed shut. He rolled his head back to look first at Cho, and then back at Harry, "He was in a pretty bad way..."
Seamus drifted off again, looking across at Dean's bed.
"Yeah, but McGonagall said he'd be alright..." persisted Harry.
"Yeah," agreed Seamus, frowning, "so there's me, Lavender, Ginny, Dean and Ron by the portal, and Ron sets off to find someone to help us get to the hospital wing, or whatever... don't remember. Just know that Ron went off ahead... to help. Something...
"Anyway, he's just disappeared into the Greenhouse, and we hear him, say 'Professor Sprout!' and we're all looking at each other, 'cos he's found help, and, y'know, everything's going to be alright, and then the next thing we hear is Sprout's voice, and 'Avada Kedavra'..."
"And then Ginny's looking at everyone, and it's like... unreal, y'know. Next thing we hear is McGonagall, screaming 'Stupefy', and we're still in the storeroom, not knowing what's going on out there... Lavender was completely terrified, just saying 'no, no, no' all the time, and... well Dean was in a mess, I was all chewed up, and Ginny was gone, man, just gone. So I'm thinking no way can we defend ourselves here, but the next thing we know is Neville standing there, at the doorway, white as a sheet... and then McGonagall arrived..."
Seamus frowned, as though trying to make sense of what he'd just said.
"And you?" prompted Harry.
Seamus shrugged, the dark circled eyes conveying a sense of powerlessness at his fate, "Don't know yet, it takes about a day for the bite to work through the system... so it's likely I'll turn tonight."
"If it really was a werewolf," interjected Harry, with false optimism.
"Oh, it was," replied Seamus, resignedly. "I'm in this cell in the dungeons - tied to the bed. Lavender came down, but I sent her back up to Gryffindor - not nice to see me like that, you know?"
"I can get Lupin here, if you want," suggested Harry, "I mean, you're my friend, he'd want to help..."
Seamus looked up, hopefully, "D'you think he would? I mean, he knows, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, he knows... and, well, his friends they stood by him, and we'll all, well, we'll all stand by you, y'know... won't we?" Harry directed the last question at Cho, who, though tense, nodded tightly. He vowed to talk to Cho about the werewolf thing. She was a Pureblood, he knew, and they had deep seated opinions on such matters (Ron was, had, been the same), but he knew that she was too rational to be blinded by prejudice.
"Anyway, you made it. You got them back," observed Seamus, jerking his head towards the two beds beyond Cho. "What happened?"
Cho finally entered the conversation: "Well we waited until you'd gone through the portal, and then we went into the castle... found the dungeon, and Harry... fought the guards..."
"Guards?" asked Seamus. "You said there were six, right?"
"Troll, four charmed skeletons, wizard," listed Harry, flatly.
"...and the Crawlers," prompted Cho.
Harry shivered at the memory of the black, segmented beasts, "Yeah, there were some of those too. We got rid of them, though... then Cho broke the charms on the cells, and we Portkeyed out."
"You had a Portkey? So that's how... why you went through first... so you got straight back to Hogwarts."
"No..." started Cho, but the memory of whatever she'd seen at Azkaban was obviously too much, and tears started running down her face once more.
"Harry!" exclaimed Seamus, worriedly, "what... where?"
"Azkaban," stated Harry, flatly, as the voices in his mind started to replay; 'Avada Kedavra!', 'Kill the spare!'
"You Portkeyed out to... Azkaban?" asked Seamus, bewildered. "But you, and Dementors and..."
"Worse than you think. Nearly didn't make it back - only did 'cos Cho slapped me..."
"Sorry," whispered Cho, hoarsely.
"No, I'm serious, I was drowning there... if you hadn't brought me back, we'd have never got out. I'm sorry... I never, ever wanted to take you there... never. So, so, sorry... sorry..." Harry felt a fresh wave of guilt crash over him. He should never have put Cho through that, should have let her stay with the others in the Greenhouse.
But then he wouldn't have been able to get Hermione and Parvati out. Unless Ron hadn't gone back with Seamus and Dean. So maybe they should have left those two behind, too. Just him and Ron. But then the werewolf would've got them, and Hermione and Parvati would still be Voldemort's captives.
His initial reaction on hearing the news had been 'Anyone, anyone but Ron.' Which was fine, until the other half of his mind said, 'OK, then name a name.' And Harry knew that he couldn't. None of them deserved to die. He wanted Ron back, desperately, but not at the expense of someone else.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick arrived next; Harry had never seen Flitwick looking anything less than irrepressibly cheery, but that morning he looked drawn. On edge. Every move he made was sharp and precise, and he had his wand drawn.
"Miss Chang, Mr Finnegan, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall addressed the three with her usual crispness, "the Ministry representatives will be arriving at eleven, and Madam Pomfrey has agreed to you remaining here until that time..."
"Ministry representatives?" asked Seamus, voicing Harry's own question.
"Yes, well, under these circumstances, the... unexpected death of a student, the Ministry launches a full investigation. Naturally all those involved in last night's... events will be questioned," Professor McGonagall explained, as Harry, Cho and Seamus eyed each other warily.
"So we have to be back here by eleven, then?" asked Cho.
"Ah, well, actually, I'm afraid you won't be leaving here until at least after the Ministry has spoken to each of you," replied McGonagall, in the special tone she reserved for the completely non-negotiable. "Miss Weasley, Mr Longbottom and Miss Brown have been summoned also, and should be joining you shortly."
Whilst his Head of House had been relaying news of their virtual imprisonment in the Hospital Wing, Harry had noticed Professor Flitwick moving agitatedly between Hermione and Parvati, flicking his wand and muttering to himself. He called his counterpart over, and the two of them engaged in a brief conversation, before leaving the ward. Harry tracked them with sense, and saw them enter Madam Pomfrey's office.
"The Ministry," noted Seamus, warily, "wonder what they'll do?"
"Question us, I guess," supposed Harry, "although Cho and I didn't really see what happened."
"They might question us about what we did, too, though," interjected Cho, wearing a frown that Harry recognised from their joint study sessions in the library. "And why. And how."
Harry noted the emphasis on the last word, and looked from Seamus to Cho, "Ah," he said, "that wouldn't necessarily be good news for me." He would have to tell all the group he was a Mage eventually, but, right now, if they were to face Ministry questioning, possibly (who knew?) under Veritaserum, he couldn't tell the rest until the interrogation was over.
But Cho needed to know the risks, in case she inadvertently said something. "Um, Seamus," began Harry, "I, er, need to talk to Cho... alone, for a couple of minutes. Is that... OK?"
Seamus looked mildly hurt, and Harry felt terrible for his apparent betrayal of the friend who'd taken a werewolf bite for him, "Seamus, I wouldn't ask unless it was really, erm, personal." He'd meant to say 'important', but had pulled back at the last second - the last thing he needed was Seamus to say that Harry had discussed 'something important' with Cho before the Ministry arrived.
"Alright," relented Seamus, looking puzzled, and clearly wondering what kind of priorities were wheeling around in Harry's mind if he considered muttering sweet nothings to his girlfriend more important than discussing the events of the previous night. Nonetheless, Seamus wandered the length of the ward, to gaze out from the far window, across the grounds to the lake.
This time Cho slid out of bed, and padded over to Harry, her dark eyes questioning.
"Cho, you remember I told you I was a Mage?"
"Yup, physical magic. Can't use a wand. Something to do with Vellum?"
"Yeah - ignore Vellum, that bit's not important. What is important is that if the Ministry find out I'm a Mage, I'll be sentenced to life imprisonment."
Cho blinked, "You're joking."
"Nope. Oh, they blind me, too," Harry affected an indifferent shrug, "'s the penalty for being a Mage. It's an old law, from Slytherin's campaign against the Magi..."
"Life? Blinded? Just for being what you are?"
"That's about it," confirmed Harry, as he slid himself into a sitting position at the edge of his bed, facing her, his legs dangling over the side. "So you see, I'd appreciate it if you, um, didn't exactly mention any of the physical magic stuff. Specifically."
"OK," agreed Cho, her concentration frown intensifying.
"I'm not asking you to lie, though," added Harry, hurriedly.
Cho was nodding, "No, no, just, erm... tell the truth selectively, right?"
"Yeah," agreed Harry, thankfully, allowing himself a weak smile that Cho returned.
Her eyes remained troubled however, and, as they faced each other, the expression started to crumble. "Why... why does everything happen?" she asked, stepping closer to Harry, who slid off the bed to meet her in a hug.
Harry felt Cho's body shudder from her sobbing as he held her in his arms, and lightly kissed her hair. "Why does what happen?"
"Why does it always get taken away? Cedric... you... why?"
Harry found he had no good answer to that, and instead he just held her, as McGonagall, Flitwick and Pomfrey re-entered the ward, and approached Hermione's bed.
Cho still cradled in his arms, Harry had looked over his shoulder to catch Seamus' attention, and summoned him back with a jerk of his head.
"Everything OK?" asked Seamus.
"Not really, not just yet... but it will be. Looks like Flitwick's trying to revive them," observed Harry, this time nodding in the direction of the group of staff huddled about the furthest bed.
"Hope they're OK, at least," said Seamus, before adding, as a reminder, "but they don't know about Ron yet."
Harry sighed; too much was happening for him to properly comprehend the fact that Ron was dead. He knew it, of course, but at that moment it was just a dispassionate statement, on a par with knowing that a bezoar would be found in a goat's stomach. He knew enough to understand that these things were cyclical, and that the punch to the stomach on hearing those words would soon return, but, for the time being, it was just another fact.
Neville, Ginny and Mrs Weasley had returned to the ward, along with Lavender and the Twins proper (no Lee). Seeing the intense activity about Hermione's bed, the new arrivals headed over to the three awake patients, using Harry and Cho's beds as impromptu sofas.
"Harry, Seamus and...?" nodded one of the Twins, his face a deathly white.
"Cho," confirmed Harry, since her face was still buried against his chest. And, to be brutally honest, he found it comforting to hold her like this, swaying gently as he leant against the bed.
"Ah," noted the second Twin, nodding slowly. "Bad night."
"Very bad," confirmed Seamus, with a flick of his head towards Dean.
The first Twin sucked air through his teeth on taking in Dean's appearance, and then turned back to Harry, his voice low, "Things are happening, mate. Something big's going on... Vellum's disappeared..."
That took Harry by surprise, "Vellum?" he queried, shifting his arms a little lower on Cho, so that he could twist to face the conversation properly.
"And Snape wasn't at breakfast, either," added Neville.
"Hang on," said Harry, and closed his eyes as he swept his sense through the castle searching for the patterns of his two least favourite teachers. And coming up blank. "Both gone?"
"And that's not all," continued the other Twin; "Dad's not here because the Ministry's in uproar - spoke to him over the fireplace. The Dementors have left Azkaban."
"Disappeared," confirmed the first Twin, "took some of the prisoners with them. The rest are being transferred to a rock off Cornwall... Dad's up to his neck..."
But Harry had suddenly connected the pain of his scar from the previous evening: "Voldemort!" he realised, as everyone flinched. "He was there when we Portkeyed into Azkaban. Last night."
"Whoa," breathed the first Twin, seemingly unaware that he'd broken the natural order of their sequential responses. "So You-Know-Who was at Azkaban, you reckon he was getting the Dementors on his side?"
"...and that'd explain the prisoners, wouldn't it?" concluded the second Twin. "Death Eaters..."
"Well, Tempus should be able to handle them," opined Neville, triggering Harry's memory of discussions at the Order of the Phoenix. His heart sank still further.
"Neville," Harry began, cautiously, "about Tempus... that tattoo, it's a loyalty charm. You can't attack anyone else who wears it."
The rest of the group looked at Harry enquiringly, and even Cho craned her neck up to lock her eyes on him.
"Siri.. I mean, Lupin and Snuffles found out about this, and told me; the Order of Tempus have different levels of tattoo - the blue one is the lowest, but there are higher levels, where they can attack people within the Order who are at a lower level..."
"Well... well that's not a problem, is it?" countered Neville, "I mean... I mean, why, why would you want to attack people in the Order?"
"Oh no," sighed Cho, "no..."
"Wait a minute," interjected Seamus, "you mean that the top level of Tempus will be immune from any resistance from their followers? They could do whatever they wanted?"
"Yup," confirmed Harry, weakly, watching Neville for his reaction.
"Well... well, that's still not a problem, though, is it? I mean, they're against You-Know-Who..."
"But why are they against him?" asked the second Twin.
"Because he's evil? Or because he's in their way?" prompted the first.
Further discussion was cut off by Hermione's frantic shout, "Wormtail!"