The elevator door opened to another long hall with doors spaced out along its considerable length. Between the nondescript stone walls and simple wooden doors, Harry would have thought he was back in the interview rooms where he gave his testimony against the Dursleys. Madam Bones led the group to the first door and pushed it open, revealing a massive chamber inside.
"This is the chamber of the Wizengamot," she said, pointing up to the ceiling. Harry looked up and saw a translucent night sky reflected back down at him, the glass ceiling barely visible through the twinkling stars. "As I'm sure you can imagine, it gets tiresome to be underground deliberating all day, so even artificial sunlight can be welcome during those long sessions."
Sirius wandered alongside Harry, looking around at the chamber that had so recently seen the start of another war. He looked over at Hermione, who seemed near to falling apart for the excited energy she was trying to hold at bay. He glanced over to Harry as well, who seemed politely interested, but lingered slightly behind the others. Sirius could see his furtive glances over to the entrance to the room. No doubt waiting for Fleur.
"What is this?" Hermione asked, excitement finally spilling out of her. She knelt down on the ground, her fingers tracing the outline of a rune etched into the concrete floor.
"Good eye," Madam Bones said excitedly, walking over to the runes. "This is where we keep any dangerous criminals that are being tried by the entirety of the Wizengamot. Grindlewald was held in that very circle." She produced her wand and pointed to a single rune that was out of line with the rest of the circle. "This is the activation point. Tapping this with your wand will raise both barriers."
"Both?" Hermione asked, looking towards the middle of the circle.
"We often need to keep a dementor along with the kinds of criminals we keep within this circle. The inner circle is to secure the dementor, and to limit its influence."
Hermione walked over to the smaller circle in the middle, squatting down inside to examine the more complex runes on the ground.
"What an incredible practical application of runic magic," she murmured, before raising her voice. "Harry, look! This one is in the exact shape of your scar!"
Sirius stepped forward to see the rune and the world began to fall, his sight growing dim as the red flash of a stunning spell faded away.
Hermione snatched her hand away from the runes as they began to glow blue, stumbling as an invisible wall split her off from Sirius' prone form.
"What-?"
"Seems like Barty overplanned again," the older woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. She dropped a hand to Harry's shoulder, who was staring passively ahead, his features vacant. "Once Potter is secured, we'll be back to get you two and the one upstairs. All three of you will be valuable tools when the time comes to break him…" she trailed off, looking over in surprise as Harry shook his head slowly and stepped away. His hand flew to his pocket, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Interesting…Confringo."
Harry's wand moved in a flash, and the bright orange curse that exploded from the woman's wand impacted uselessly against his shield charm. The air in front of him shimmered as the light from the spell faded, and he raised his wand in preparation.
"You're quick," his attacker said conversationally, her own wand raised in front of her. "And that's not all. First, you survive the killing curse, then you manage to keep your sanity after being tortured by our master, and now you easily break free of the Imperious. Perhaps there is some merit to the Dark Lord's fascination with-"
"Reducto!" Harry shouted, pushing Madam Bones to the ground in an attempt to dodge the curse.
"That would've been nasty," she said, an unsettling grin on her face. "Dumbledore's golden boy seems to be a little tarnished. Let's see what you've got."
A twist of her wand and an inaudible utterance began the duel in earnest. A sickly purple curse soared across the space between them towards Harry's chest. He took a step back and brought another shield into existence. The spell hit the shield and cascaded across the front, suffusing his vision with the purple light.
Keep moving. Moody's words.
He pivoted to the left and thrust his wand forward, feeling the spell. His shield dropped and the stunner cut a hole in the lingering purple spell as it streaked towards its target.
The doppelganger ducked the spell, a volley of varied spells spewing from the tip of her wand as she dropped to a knee.
Another shield sprung to life between them at Harry's call, all three spells impacting uselessly against the front.
Don't let them recover.
Harry dropped to his stomach and traced a quick arc parallel to the ground. Spells issued forth as he rattled through his quick repertoire. "Diffindo. Stupify. Expelliarmus. Reducto. Reducto. Diffindo."
A heavy thrum echoed through the chamber as one of the cutting curse impacted the ward holding Sirius and Hermione. His teeth rattled in his skull.
The reductor spells impacted the ground, digging long swaths into the stone floor in front of him. The rubble was blasted forward, crashing down around his opponent, and falling to the ground in front of a shield.
Her mask of calm indifference had fallen, and irritation was giving way to fury. With a wordless shout, the Death Eater in disguise dropped their shield and thrust their wand forward.
Use their emotions against them.
"Avada Kedav-"
The furious curse became a gurgle as a thin line of red bisected her neck. For a precarious moment, she only wobbled slightly in her wide attack stance before she hit the ground, her head just before her body.
"Harry! Watch out!" Hermione's frightened shout spun him around to find himself staring at the tip of Fudge's wand.
Orange light shone brightly in his vision for a fraction of a moment before he felt it impact his chest. His feet lifted from the ground, his body weightless as he flew through the air towards the wall behind him. Hermione let out an anguished wail as Harry impacted the ground with a heavy thud.
He looked up to see the vague figure of the Minister standing just outside the warded zone, next to Amelia Bones' headless body. He squinted, his glasses blown away in the blast alongside his wand. He staggered to his feet, his green eyes wild beneath matted, blood-soaked hair.
"I know a lot of other impressive non-verbal spells," Fudge taunted, stepping closer to Harry. "The disillusionment charm is a handy one that comes to mind."
Harry rose the rest of the way, taking a deep breath. His side protested, but he didn't feel any broken bones. Maybe he could stall for time...
"I'll go with you if you let all of them go," he said, his eyes darting up to the glass ceiling. An icy pit formed deep in his bruised chest. "All of them."
Barty stepped closer, his face finally coming into plain view. He wore a sneer across Fudge's face while a manic light glowed behind his beady eyes.
"You are most certainly in no position to make demands," he growled, stepping close enough for his wand to tap Harry's chest. "The Dark Lord needs you alive, but he has given me, his most loyal servant, the honor of breaking you first."
Before Harry could reply, he felt an immense pressure lift him from the ground and the familiar snap of ribs as he was effortlessly tossed back to impact the wall. His head rebounded off the stone before he landed hard on his side, his arm breaking beneath him.
He groaned, spitting out the blood that trickled into his mouth as he tried to rise. His left leg gave out from beneath him, dropping him hard onto his injured side. White-hot pain lanced through his chest, and breathing became all but impossible. He heard Hermione's indistinct shouts from her warded prison. He couldn't understand her through the ringing in his ears and the wet rattle in his chest.
"Come here," Barty commanded with Fudge's voice, his words echoing through the large chamber. Harry felt a sharp tug on his shirt as he was dragged back to the middle where the Death Eater stood, smiling down at him with Fudge's face. Harry looked up into the hate crazed visage looming over him, and could already feel the memory of the pain that awaited him.
In the blurry distance, beyond the man wearing Fudge's likeness, and past the faint bursts of light meant to mimic stars, Harry saw a flash of bright blue blazing through the darkness high above them.
"Cruc-"
A cacophony of shattered glass interrupted the curse. Shards rained down from the ceiling, a furious screeching form impacting the ground between them. The dark figure rose to its impressive height, its chest heaving as it stood.
From the ground, Harry opened his eyes to see Fleur, her feathered shoulders hunched and her talons curled into fists as she took a purposeful step towards Barty.
Her silver wings expanded, delicately shielding him from the rest of the chamber. His matted hair tossed madly about by the waves of heat, though unlike the blistering typhoon that had Barty Crouch recoiling against the inferno, it washed gently over him, carrying with it a measure of peace to his battered body.
"The iron should have held you!" Crouch bellowed, wincing as a shriek from Fleur pierced the redoubling wind. The hem of his coat began to smolder, and the rushing air carried the telltale scent of burning hair. He raised his wand, but a feathered arm shot out, her talon grabbing his wrist. There was an audible snap and groan of pain as she tightened her grip around his arm. His wand clattered to the floor and he fixed her with all the anger and defiance he could muster. He cursed and spat at her, the liquid turning to steam as it flew between them.
Her piercing voice echoed painfully through the room in response. No words were carried through the air, only her fury, its promise taking form in pockets of vivid bluebell flame. Waves of heat washed over Harry, buffeting his hair and clothes as it passed.
"Fleur! No!" Hermione screamed, banging her fists uselessly against the magical prison.
As one, the pockets of flame erupted.
The blue fire cascaded through the room in a furious wave, turning the podium and chairs to ash and climbing the high walls as it spread. Hermione was driven back against the onslaught of heat as the flames buried the invisible walls in its uncontrolled destruction.
Through the rush of wind and the crack of stone, a piercing shriek raged; a scream of ethereal fury to fuel the inferno.
And as one, as though they had never existed at all, the flames vanished.
Fleur stood stoically in the middle of the room, her feathered arm still outstretched. Her taloned claw opened, spilling ash onto the floor at her feet. Tendons flexed, visible beneath cracked and blackened skin around charred feathers on her wrist.
Behind her, curled on the floor, lay Harry's battered form.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted, rising to her feet. "Fleur, is he okay?"
Fleur's head twitched over and she drew herself up, expanding her wings to their full incredible span. Her glowing blue eyes pierced through Hermione, their intensity halting her mid-step.
"It is my fire," she said, her shrieking voice high, sharp, painful, and sure. "It is a part of me. It will not hurt him."
A groan at her taloned feet pulled her focus, defensiveness vanishing against an overwhelming feeling of concern. She knelt awkwardly, her large wings brushing against the floor behind her. She reached a hand out to him, no room left in her mind for the pain screaming from her wrists and neck.
A whimper froze her in place. Fear blossomed through the concern. He rolled onto his side, his working arm pressed to the side of his head. Tears tracked a steady path through the grime on his face. On his forehead, glowing softly behind wet blood and matted fringe, his lightning scar bled freely. The edges were cracked and blackened, the normally smooth scar pulsing with a familiar horrible blue light.
She began to scream.
It was piercing and shrill at first, a pale comparison to the blazing fury that had colored it before. Only horror and pain filled it now. The scream suddenly transformed into a hoarse, wet noise as her avian form fled the scene before her. She began to retch, her hand trying to grasp at her throat, but meeting only blinding pain instead of comfort. She spat out the blood that collected in her mouth as she coughed, ignoring the fire pulsing at her wrists and neck.
"H-Harry?" she croaked, her voice raspy and weak. She reached a hand out, but couldn't bring herself to touch his writhing form.
"W-what happened here?" an unsteady voice called from the doorway.
"Help!" Hermione called from her prison, her fists thudding against the wall holding her back. "We were trapped by Death Eaters! They need to go to the hospital!"
The young man entered the room, his eyes glued to Fleur as he drew closer.
"Y-you're...incredible," he murmured, crouching down next to Harry. "My name is Daniel Woodston. I'm on track to be Minister in just a few years!"
"It would make me very happy," Fleur began, fighting against the dizzying flash of pain that speaking caused her, "if you would let my friends out of that space."
Daniel nodded excitedly before sprinting over to where Sirius and Hermione were held. He rebounded against the invisible wall, falling hard against the stone floor.
"You have to tap that rune there with your wand!" said Hermione, banging frantically against her cage. A moment later, the shield fell, depositing her onto the ground. She pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it over at Sirius. "Ennervate!"
Sirius stirred, sitting upright as his senses returned to him.
"What happened? She stunned me?"
Hermione grabbed Sirius by the shoulder and pointed to Harry. "He's hurt really bad. I think both of them are." Her voice wavered, but she kept speaking as she stood. "They need to go to a hospital. I don't...I don't know how to get them to St. Mungos."
"I'll take care of it," Sirius said, rising from the floor and stepping past Daniel, who had risen to his feet and was simply staring at Fleur. "If they're hurt really bad...stun them. It'll be a kindness."
Hermione nodded and rushed over to her friends. Her wand gripped tightly in her hand.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Sirius paced the elevator, glancing up as it rose on its lethargic track. He wondered if he'd be able to climb the thick cables faster than the damn thing moved. He gritted his teeth, and put a hand on the door, tensing his body in preparation to sprint out to the floo. St. Mungo's, then Dumbledore. There was only one reason Harry would be bleeding on the floor of the ministry, and the thought gnawed painfully at his heart. There would not be another Potter funeral while he still drew breath.
A small bell chimed to an empty elevator, Sirius already sprinting through the atrium, the powerful legs of the grim carrying him faster than his own lanky legs could manage. He deftly avoided the growing number of people in the atrium, the small crowd alternating between pointing up to the blackened remains of the Minister's office high above them, and the small forms down below the broken glass floor. His paws skidded on the smooth tile floor in front of the first floo. He shifted back to his human form far faster than was comfortable, but the need for expediency pushed the pain far from his thoughts.
"St. Mungo's Emergency!" he called into the tall green flames. Instantly, a medi-witch with short curly grey hair and a heavily lined face appeared in the floo.
"Your emergency?"
"We have two severely injured. At least one, if not both life-threatening. They are in the chambers of the Wizengamot."
The worker's eyebrows raised in surprise, and she stood from her chair, nodding. "We will come by floo shortly."
She vanished as the call was closed, and Sirius stuck his head back into the fire.
"Dumbledore!"
An office at Hogwarts swam into view, but rather than the Headmaster's ornate room, Sirius recognized the spartan offices of the Deputy Headmistress.
"The headmaster is away," her clipped voice called from somewhere in the room. "He has forwarded all floo calls to-"
"Minerva, it's Sirius," he interrupted. "Harry and Fleur have been badly hurt by what I can only assume to be Death Eaters. I don't have any details. I was stunned. Hermione is okay." As he spoke, McGonagall rushed to the fireplace, her stoic composure held in place by the barest of strings. "Healers are on their way, so I can't talk long," he continued, interrupting the questions he could see forming. "Dumbledore and Sebastian need to know."
"I will have them to St. Mungos momentarily," she said and vanished from view.
Sirius pulled his head from the green flames, turning as another floo flared to life, disgorging three healers in white robes.
"This way. Please hurry," he said, sprinting back to the elevator as fast as his terrible human legs could carry him.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
After the healers departed with the unconscious forms of Harry and Fleur, Sirius escorted Hermione up to the floos, one hand on her shaking shoulder.
"Those healers said they'll be all right," Sirius said as they stepped out of the elevators. A medi-witch in white robes and an old tired-looking member of the DMLE accompanied them through the gathering throng of people to the floos.
"They have to say that," she hiccoughed, wiping a hand across her eyes. "He's never been hurt that badly before. He always gets away...somehow."
"You ask him if that's true once he's better," Sirius said, smiling awkwardly down at Hermione when her head snapped up in surprise. "He's made of strong stuff. He's weathered worse."
"That...that's true," she said, stopping at the first floo.
Sirius bent down and stuck his head in the flames and called out for McGonagall. Her office spun quickly into view, the older woman standing in front of the fire, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"Dumbledore and Mr. Delacour are at St. Mungos. Amelia Bones has returned with them. I expect you've just missed her," McGonagall said without preamble.
"That's good. I'll meet up with them shortly. The healers said that they'll both be okay, but we'll keep you updated. Hermione is here and ready to come through.
McGonagall nodded and stepped aside. Sirius rose, mimicking the movement while gesturing to Hermione.
"I'll make sure you know how it goes," he said. "There's a little mirror that he and I use to keep in touch. If you can find it, that'll make it quite a bit easier."
Hermione nodded, stepped into the floo, and vanished. Once the flames died back down, Sirius stepped inside, and with a quick shout of, "St. Mungo's!" he vanished as well.
He stepped out into the brightly lit receiving area of the magical hospital. A young medi-witch stood in the middle of the arrivals section. She waved him over.
"Mr. Black?"
"That's right. Can I see Harry?"
"Right this way, Sir," she said, turning quickly on her heel. She led him past the reception desk and through the large doors labeled 'Critical Injuries.'
"Both Mr. Potter and Miss Delacour are being kept in their own rooms due to the nature of their injuries. You may visit Mr. Potter's room, and we have been told by her father that you may also visit Miss Delacour should you have reason to do so," she explained, turning another corner before stopping in front of a plain wooden door. "Mr. Potter is through here, Miss Delacour is across the hall."
"Thank you," Sirius said. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room smelled of a mix of potions and some smell-good spell unique to hospitals that turned Sirius' stomach, though not nearly as much as the sight of Harry lying in the hospital bed, his bloody clothes replaced with the standard off-green hospital gown. Dumbledore stood up by Harry's head, his hands behind his back. He stared down at Harry, his aged face drawn tight with concentration.
"How is he?" Sirius asked, stepping around to the side opposite Dumbledore, pushing a chair out of the way.
"He has been dosed with the necessary potions to restore most of the damage he suffered. His injuries were...extensive." The word fell from Dumbledore like a weight and landed heavily on the bed between them.
"'Most of the damage?'" Sirius asked, checking Harry over for any remaining injury. He appeared to be whole, the only changes being a white bandage covering his scar, and the steady ripples under the skin of his arm as his bones regrew themselves.
Dumbledore pointed to Harry's forehead. "They had to apply a tincture of liquid silver and water to stop the creeping burn that was beginning to eat away at his scar tissue. Other than that, everything else seems to have gone to plan. He's been given the standard dose of Draught of Living Death, and will be administered the antidote tomorrow morning once the potions have finished their work."
Sirius nodded, dropping heavily into the chair behind him.
"Miss Delacour is recovering as well, though her injuries are a little more difficult to treat, due to their nature. Sebastian is in the other room if you wanted to go visit."
"I think I'll just...stay here," Sirius said, settling deeper into the chair.
"Understandable," Dumbledore replied, stepping away from Harry, the pensive look still heavy on his features. "Harry will not be going anywhere should you change your mind. I ask that you inform me once he is awake and free to leave. We have much to discuss."
Sirius nodded, his attention focused so squarely on Harry that he didn't hear the old wizard leave the room.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Hours passed silently, flowing by Sirius' still form as he stared at Harry's deathly pale face and his slow, shallow breathing. He'd long since lost track of time when the door to the room clicked quietly open, allowing a haggard Sebastian to step through.
"How is he?" Sebastian asked, crossing the room and dropping into a chair opposite Sirius.
"Dumbledore said he'll be fine. So did the medi-wizard that stopped by a little while ago. His arm is done, but it seems like the ribs are still regrowing."
"That's good," Sebastian answered, a relieved sigh sinking him further in the chair. "She's also still under the draught. They said the process for restoring the damaged muscles in her neck is usually incredibly painful, and she'll have to take a short potion regimen for a while to get her voice back to full strength, but she should be fine as well."
Sirius nodded slowly, relief trying to finally settle in his chest, only to be angrily rebuffed.
"Sebastian," Sirius said after the quiet seconds became many silent minutes. "I'm sorry."
"What happened in there?" Sebastian asked, leaning forward in the chair. "When Dumbledore's phoenix took us back to Hogwarts, the Deputy Headmistress told us it'd been a Death Eater attack, but she didn't have any more information than that."
"And I don't have much more for you, unfortunately," Sirius answered. "I was stunned before everything happened. Amelia Bones was taking us on a tour, and showing the kids the Wizengamot chambers. Hermione was looking at the runes used for prisoner detention, and I was stunned from behind. Fleur was asked to stay behind to help Fudge and Umbridge with some paperwork. I don't know how she got injured."
"Amelia Bones was with us, meeting with the ICW," Sebastian pointed out, his brow furrowed. "She apparated back to the Ministry from Hogwarts while Dumbledore and I came here."
"That's what McGonagall said too. So I can only assume it was someone under Polyjuice. This means we can also assume that Fudge was in on it, since he would have known Amelia was with the two of you, and we met up with her along with Fudge in his office," Sirius said, steepling his fingers in front of his nose, his elbows perched on the armrests.
"So where did Fudge go?"
"I have no idea," Sirius growled. "But the kids might. Hermione probably does too, but I doubt McGonagall would let us talk to her right now."
"We'll just have to be patient," Sebastian said, the sour expression that flitted across his face emphasizing exactly what he thought of the idea. His visage softened, and he fixed Sirius with a stern glare. "And you can't be expected to defend against something like that. There's no fault to be had, so there is no need to apologize."
"Mmm," Sirius grunted noncommittally.
"I'm going to head back to Fleur's room. Apolline is waiting for me. Feel free to come to get us if you need anything."
"You too," Sirius replied, tacking on the best smile he could manage. "Thanks."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry blinked slowly, the unfamiliar pattern of blurs around him stubbornly refusing to coalesce into any discernable shape. He patted around his eyes to check for his glasses, a motion that became more of a slap as his hand dropped rebelliously onto his face. He groaned, the grogginess of whatever he'd been given starting to recede.
His hands probed around the sides of the bed, eventually bumping against the familiar shape of his glasses. Setting them on his face revealed his godfather, slumped to the side in a nearby chair, his arm curled underneath his head in an uncomfortable approximation of a pillow.
As the fog surrounding his mind began to clear, panic began to fill the space left behind. Flashes of Fudge's snarling face, a comforting blue wave, and unbearable pain in his scar spun through his mind, lifting him upright into a sitting position.
"Sirius, wake up!" he called out as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Sirius jolted in his chair, a flood of relief washing years away from his features as he caught sight of Harry. It quickly vanished as he placed a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder, and guided him back down into the bed. To Harry's surprise, he found he could barely push back against Sirius' firm grip.
"But Fleur-" he protested weakly.
"-is resting in the room across the hall," Sirius cut in. "We've been told she'll be fine, but she's still under the effects of the draught. How are you feeling?"
"What do you mean, 'told she'll be fine?'" Harry demanded, weakly struggling against Sirius' hands. "Was she hurt? She saved me."
"All they told me was that she got burned. I doubt she'll keep you from seeing her once she's awake. You'll just have to be patient." Sirius looked down at him, his clenched teeth and stern gaze conveying what his gentle touch did not. "So how are you feeling?" He repeated, removing his hand from Harry's shoulder.
"Okay, I guess," Harry answered, stretching his side experimentally. He let out a sigh of relief when not even a twinge of pain answered his movement.
"How's your head?"
Harry's hand reached up and felt a soft bandage taped to his forehead. He gingerly pulled the tape from his skin and peeled the bandage off. He saw Sirius' eyes widen in surprise and his hand flew to the scar.
He could feel the familiar indentation of his skin; the thin lightning bolt he'd carried for fourteen years, but instead of the smooth ridges along its edge, he felt a new outline, the edges not much larger, but more jagged and cracked.
"What's it look like?" he asked, looking up to Sirius, whose eyes were locked firmly down on Harry's forehead.
"It looks...cooler?" He pulled his piece of their mirrors from his pocket and offered it to Harry.
Harry held up the grimy mirror, carefully inspecting the source of his unwanted fame. The thin line had indeed been widened, though only barely. He was surprised at how little it had changed visually compared to how different it felt beneath his finger, but there was no mistaking it was, in fact, different. The most notable differences were the small angry red branches reaching out from the edges, lending even more realism to the lightning shape.
"It is cooler...isn't it?" He handed the mirror back to Sirius, who grinned weakly in return.
"What happened down there, Harry?" Sirius asked, once again taking his seat at the side of the bed. "One minute I was on a tour and the next Hermione was reviving me, and you were a bloody mess on the ground."
Harry sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. He didn't want to relive yet another time he'd failed to protect someone he cared about, but looking over into Sirius' taut, pained expression...maybe he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
It was a few hours later when they finally received word that Fleur was awake, and had been asking after him. Harry rose unsteadily to his feet and followed his godfather from the room. After extracting a promise from him to not stay too long, Sirius left Harry alone in the long, empty hallway. A simple door stood guard between him and people he cared so deeply about, the idea of looking up into their hurt and disappointed features made him want to run, or vomit. Probably both. But there was no escaping it. The need to see Fleur alive and well coursed through him in time with his heartbeat, and the only way to do that, was to open the door face her parents as well.
It was a shockingly steady hand that turned the knob, and surprisingly strong legs that stepped into a room of such uncertainty. The unbelievable strength that carried him into Fleur's room all but fled when he saw her sitting up in the bed, her hair fanned out behind her head on the pillow. Appoline and Sebastian stood to her left, each with one arm wrapped tightly around the other. They spoke in the quiet tones reserved for hospitals, their hushed conversation halting as Fleur's eyes moved from her parents and fell on him.
In the moment when their gaze met across a silent room, the pure relief and joy that shone in her beautiful blue eyes was so passionate and clear, it drove his prepared apologies from his mind like so much smoke amongst a warm summer breeze.
The fearful beast in his blood settled in the silence, taking with it the energy that had kept him moving. He would have collapsed to the ground had it not been for a swirl of motion and arms that grasped onto him, pulling him into a tight, tearful embrace.
"Oh, Harry," Apolline sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're okay."
Harry gently patted her heaving back, his attention never wavering from Fleur, who simply sat in her bed smiling at him, her hands resting idly on the sheets covering her lap.
Apolline finally released him and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Go on Sebastian, no need to be such a stick-in-the-mud."
Sebastian let out a strained laugh and stepped to Harry's side. He dropped a hand lightly on Harry's shoulder and smiled down at him before looking back to his wife. "I know Harry's not much of a hugger. I'll let the two of you enjoy that privilege."
Harry looked up at Sebastian in surprise, before turning back to Apolline's frustrated features. His words produced in Harry a twinge of desire to turn and embrace the man, though Harry settled for awkwardly patting the hand on his shoulder before letting his arm drop to the side.
For some unknown reason, Apolline beamed at them, the wide smile pushing yet more tears from the corners of her eyes. She wiped at them again and stepped around Harry to the door. "We'll be right back. I need to get a hold of myself, and I'll never be able to do that in here. We'll be right outside if you need us."
Harry could only nod his appreciation, his body refusing to move any further until the door had clicked shut behind them.
"Please do not stand there the whole time," Fleur begged, her voice quiet and hoarse. "They made me promise I would not get up yet, even though I am fine. So you will have to come to me."
Harry tried not to run across the room but found himself at her side faster than a normal walk would have brought him there.
"Are you okay?" He blurted. "What happened?"
She nodded, stray strands of her silvery hair falling over her shoulder to hang across her front over top of the gown that was pulled up near to her chin. "I am far more concerned about you, Harry." Her gaze roamed across his chest and arm before finally settling on his scar. "Oh no," she moaned, a hand flying to cover her mouth in horror.
"What?" Harry asked, his hand flying to his scar, the unfamiliar ridges again catching him momentarily by surprise. He pulled his hand away expecting to see blood but found his fingers dry.
"My other form," she whispered, the whites of her eyes visible around the blue of her irises. "It did that."
"You didn't do it on purpose," Harry pointed out, recalling the otherwise comforting way the blue fire washed over his body. "Who knows why my scar…" his gaze was drawn to a white bandage wrapped around the wrist of the hand covering her mouth. "What happened?"
Fleur lowered her hand slowly, covering the bandage with her other hand, a similar piece of cloth wrapped around it as well.
"After you all left, the Minister cast the body-bind curse on me, then killed Umbridge. He pulled a set of iron manacles from his desk." Fleur powered through Harry's sharp intake of breath, the words spilling through any attempt she made to slow their rush. "He put me in his chair, locked the iron around my wrists and neck, and he...he snapped my wand. He said half-breeds should not be allowed to have them."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Fleur continued, her voice becoming weaker and more strained.
"He had done his research on us. He knew that iron would burn me and that if I transformed, it would be even worse. He gloated...and then he left, and I was alone with a corpse and the stench of my own flesh burning away again. I could not move. I could not call for help. But he was coming for you, and you did not know. I needed to save you."
Harry stared up at her, a multitude of replies vying to be spoken. None seemed adequate.
"So how did you get out?" he asked instead, swallowing hard against the images her story was putting in his mind.
She smiled weakly at him, her pale cheeks coloring slightly as she looked away.
"I could think of nothing else. A simple body-bind curse will not hold my other form, no matter how much the iron would hurt."
"But you were still-"
"Iron is metal. And metal will melt." She reached a hand up to the high neck of her hospital gown and pulled it down to just below her collar bones.
Her skin was dark mottled red, cragged canyons in her flesh moved before his eyes, slowly drawing its edges closer together as he stared. She shifted slightly under his gaze, wincing as a newly closed section of skin reopened to the air.
"The medi-witch that gave me the antidote to the draught said I was lucky. Any more damage and I might have never been able to speak again."
Harry frowned down at the bed, his heart constricting as she pulled her gown back up, covering her burns delicately. He felt her hand rest atop his head, her fingers gently rubbing at his scalp.
"I can see what is going on in there," she whispered.
He looked around her arm to see tired eyes staring back.
"If our situations were reversed," she said, allowing her hand to drop back to the bed, "would you not be laying in my place utterly content to see someone you care about healthy and whole because of your actions?"
Harry wanted to argue-to point at her healing wounds and ask why she would suffer so much in his stead-but he couldn't.
She was right.