And There Was Mourning
Chapter One: He Seperated the Light From the Darkness: The First Day
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as the students sat down for dinner. A rumor had gotten around that Peeves had done something so completely horrible Dumbledore was thinking of having him locked up… somehow. No one knew what it was, or even if it was true, but they were sure there would be an announcement that night. Only one girl realized that two of her friends wern't at the table.
"God--agh--geez!" Harry swore, trying to yank his foot out of that trick step, "Why didn't you warn me!?" he demanded of Ron who was toiling equally as hard to dislodge his head and shoulder.
"I forgot, okay?!" Ron's muffled voice replied, "This is all your fault! If you'd been paying attention you wouldn't have gotten stuck and I wouldn't have run into you and landed like this!"
"My fault!" Harry exclaimed, finally managing to get himself out with a loud POP, "If you hadn't been--" he looked around. "Ron?" Ron had disappeared.
The stair belched loudly.
Harry was so startled by grotesque noise he fell straight back onto the step head first.
His head fell smoothly through the step and his foot caught a solid stair above it to prevent him from falling completely in. Harry blinked and wished his hands were there to set his glasses firmly on his head before they fell off. He was looking down upon a barren landscape. Dead, twisted trees writhed out of the ground, their gray branches creaking and swaying in a non-existant breeze.
That's when Harry felt the cold breath on his neck. It was like ice, no, colder than ice, a small, piercing wisp of air that sent violent chills down his spine. The breath turned into bony fingers, reaching up around Harry's neck. Daring not to make a sound, Harry held absolutely still. The fingers dug their nails into his flesh, causing Harry to flinch and cry out. Just then he felt someone grab his shoulders and yank him out of the step. He blinked at the harsh torch light and saw Hermione looked disapprovingly at him.
"How could you fall into that step after so many years at-- Harry! Your neck!" Hermione suddenly stopped her lecture when Harry stumbled against the wall and his head drooped. Harry brought a trembling hand up to the back of his neck and felt warm, sticky blood. He stared at it, not comprehending what had happened.
"Oh gosh, how did this happen? Look at you! I have to get you to Madame Pomfrey! She'll fix you right up! Here," she tore a small piece of her hem off her robe and handed it to Harry, "Keep that on it, pressure is the best thing for bleeding." Harry half-heartedly put the cloth against the wound and trudged after Hermione to hospital wing, his head spinning crazily, the last few minutes--or was it hours?--events getting jumbled in his mind. Against Hermione's protests, Harry took the cloth off his neck. He looked at it warily, expecting to see a lot of blood. Instead, what little blood had soaked onto it spelled out a message.
"Your friend is dead."
Hermione felt more than heard Harry fall out of step with her. His soft footsteps had silently cut off and she just felt his presense moving farther away. Then he screamed. That bloodcurdling scream that would haunt Hermione in her dreams for the rest of her life. She whirled around quickly and saw him fall, striking his head against the wall.
"Harry!" she cried, running to him. Harry had doubled over into a ball, trembling, shaking his head.
"No, no, no," he repeated to himself, rocking back and forth like a small child. "It's not true... not true... not..."
Hermione shook his shoulder insistantly. "Harry, talk to me, look at me, what happened?" Harry tried taking deep breaths to calm himself, to make himself think rationally through his pain, internal and external., but all he could do was reach out a shaky hand and give Hermione the bloody cloth. Hermione took it gingerly between two fingers and wrinkled her nose.
"Ew, Harry, that's disgusting," she complained, starting to get a bit annoyed with her friend. "Now get up you big baby. Can't the Great Harry Potter deal with a little pain?" Harry looked up at her, fear, desperation, and incredulity shining in his eyes.
"Don't you see it?" he asked her hoarsely.
"See what?" Hermione demanded, grabbing Harry's arm and yanking him to his feet. "A sixteen year old boy who got his head caught in the trick step, got an ouchie and can't stand the sight of blood?" She threw the bloody cloth on the ground, "That thing's gross. You shouldn't have taken it off the cut." Hermione started half-dragging Harry down the hallway, his whimpers and protests falling on deaf ears, "Look, I was concerned before, but it's only a cut Harry! There's no need to scream and whine and freak out about it. Christ! You've had worse!"
They trudged along in silence for the next few minutes until they reached the infirmary where Hermione left Harry to the care of Madame Pomfrey. Hermione walked out the door and began to head back to the Great Hall when she stopped and turned around. She walked back until she reached the door but stopped, simply waiting for Harry. As much as she might have complained about how he was being a silly baby, she still cared about his well-being. Plus, something nagged at the back of her mind. Harry had dealt with worse injuries without suffereing so much as a grimace. Now he had a minor cut on his neck and he goes beserk. Something didn't add up.
She would have waited for Harry until he came out, but soon it came time to head to her next class and she didn't want to be late.
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Harry didn't come back in time for dinner. Nor did he appear any time that night. Hermione was worried about him. She lay on her bed that night re-reading "Hogwarts: A History" for the umpteenth time, not really seeing the words that were in front of her. Dinner had been a quiet affair without Harry there. Hermione sighed and rolled over on to her back, staring at the ceiling. What was wrong with Harry? The feeling that something was entirely wrong lay in her stomach like a lump of lead.
"Hey, Herm," Lavander popped her head down, startling Hermione out of her revive, "What's up with you today? You've been awfully quiet."
"Hmm?" Hermione blinked, "What do you mean quiet? I'm always a bit quiet, aren't I?"
Lavander laughed, "No. You're always talking about 'Harry this' and 'Harry that' and 'Harry said blah blah blah'. I was beginning to think you didn't like him anymore."
"Lavander!!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized, "I don't like him!"
"Sure," Lavander said skeptically, "Whatever you say."
"He's just a friend! Besides," Hermione's voice fell, "He got hurt today so he hasn't been around."
"Oh! So that's why it was so quiet at dinner!" Lavander said, eyes lighting up, "I was wondering why he and Ron weren't bickering over something."
Hermione's breath froze in her throat. Ron. She had forgotten all about him in the excitement with Harry today! And now that she thought about it she hadn't seen him today either. "Oh my God," she moaned, her head falling back on her pillow, "I'm such an idiot!"
"Of course you are, dear," Lavander said benignly, "Now why don't you go down to the hospital wing and say hi to dear little Harry, okay?"
Hermione simply moaned and buried her head in her pillow. She didn't even want to think of what had happened to Ron. She'd find out in the morning, she guessed.
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"And then Hermione brought me to the infirmary," Harry finished with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.
Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought, "This is very serious Harry. Are you sure you saw writing in the blood?"
"Yes!" Harry was exhasperated. "Positive!"
"And what did you think it said?"
"It said..." Harry took a breath, "It said 'Your friend is dead'. And Ron was gone and I haven't seen him all day and I don't know where he is, and for all I know he is dead and... and... and..."
"Harry," Dumbledore snapped. Harry sucked in a breath. Professor Dumbledore had never said a harsh word to him in his life. "Calm down. Ron went on a small trip with a few other students. You'll see him in six days."
"But he--"
"I know what you thought you saw," Dumbledore's voice softened and he looked at Harry pityingly, "And you're wrong, I'm sorry. Ron is with some other students and--"
"But the step--"
"Is nothing but desolidified stone. I fell into it quite a bit in my days as a student. Harry, I want you to go back to the infirmary and get some rest and--"
"You think I'm crazy," Harry accused him, emerald eyes narrowing, "I'm not! I know what I saw! There's someone or something out there that's--" Dumbledore snapped his fingers and Madame Pomfrey came into the room looking concerned.
"I want you to take Harry back to the hospital wing and help him get a good night's rest. He needs it," Dumbledore added pointedly. Madame Pomfrey nodded knowingly and took Harry's arm.
"Come along child, we'll get you set up in a nice warm bed and--" Harry began to struggle out of her grip.
"I'm not crazy!" he cried, trying to get out of Madame Pomfrey's grip of iron, "I'm not! Let me go! I'm not crazy..."
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