Part Four: Angel of Mercy
The young woman walked cautiously into the woods, her sweater pulled close around her as if to ward off the chill of foreboding that ran down her spine. From the time Glynnis Babcock was twelve, she'd been able to sense when something untoward was about to happen. Her father had called it instinct, her mother said it was women's intuition, and her sister had laughingly called it an uncanny ability to put herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever it was, she had found that when the small hairs on the back her neck started to prickle, unusual things were brewing and the prickles had started about ten minutes ago when three boys had run from these woods. Glynnis had seen them from the meadow where she sat reading and knew at once that something was wrong. The feeling hadn't come from the boys themselves but from the place they'd left.
"You are out of your mind, Glynnie," she mused aloud as she quietly stepped out of the sunlight into the dim, green-tinged light of the woods. "One of these days you'll learn to ignore these little tugs and Mother will once again sleep peacefully in her bed. Now if you know what's good for you you'll shut up and go home." Having said this, she tossed her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and continued walking in defiance of her own advice. She knew she would not go home.
"Fine thing, this. Spend your day off from hospital chasing down phantoms in the woods," she continued to herself in a whisper as she went deeper into the trees. She stopped and squinted ahead. The trees were thinning out and the light was brighter. She could see an open patch of ground. Glynnis crept forward slowly, knowing instinctively that whatever had brought her to this place was just ahead. She moved a few feet further and peeked into what appeared to be a small clearing. Suddenly, a feeling of inevitability so intense swept over her that she gasped and leaned against a tree for support. She knew as certainly as she knew her own name that her destiny waited in the clearing beyond. Glynnis took several deep breaths and tried to calm her racing heart. 'There will be no turning back.' The words echoed clearly in her mind.
"Glynnie, get a grip," she told her self sternly. "You've not turned your back on anything in this life and you won't start now. It's time to trust those instincts of yours." Glynnis took one last deep breath and pushed away from the tree that supported her. She straightened her back and faced the clearing.
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Pain. That was the first thing that alerted Harry to the fact that he wasn't dead. It lanced through his shoulder and radiated throughout his body. He moaned aloud, it was so intense. The imbedded knife felt as if it were pulsing. With each pulse, Harry felt his strength desert him. "I must have lost a lot of blood to feel so weak," he thought with the first tinges of panic. Then Harry heard the sound of approaching footsteps and, fearful that Dudley had returned to finish what he'd started, Harry tried to sit up. The world around him began to fade and the pain tripled as he attempted to push himself off the ground. He flopped back down and tried to stifle a cry behind his hand but to no avail, the sound of his agony echoed through the trees.
Harry was dimly aware that the footsteps stopped for a second and then increased to a run. "Whoever it is can't be Dudley. They aren't wheezing enough." The thought was small comfort. "It could be one of the other two boys . . . "
"Oh my God!" gasped a quiet, female voice. Harry turned his head to see who was there. "Oh, no, don't move! Lie still." A woman came into Harry's line of sight. She was quite obviously distressed at the sight of him lying on the ground, a knife sticking out of his chest. "Please," Harry whispered. "will you get help?" His words seem to prompt a reaction from her, because she dropped to her knees and began to take off her sweater. Harry watched with widening eyes as she started to pull off the T-shirt underneath. "What . . . " Harry croaked, his eyes nearly bugging at the sight of her exposed bra.
"I need to stop the bleeding," came the muffled reply from under the shirt. Once her head was clear she quickly put her sweater back on and tore the T-shirt in half. Harry must have looked at her as if she'd suddenly gone stark raving mad because she smiled and said "I'm making a bandage" rip "to secure the knife" rip "so it won't slip and to wrap" rip "around the base to staunch the bleeding." rip
Her smile widened. "It must seem odd, some strange woman shows up at your side and immediately starts to remove her clothes. So, let's make it seem less strange, shall we? My name is Glynnis. And just so you know I'm not totally insane, I should tell you I'm also a nurse."
"I'm Harry," he whispered.
"Well, Harry. I'm going to start by packing some of this cloth against the base of the wound, alright? It's going to hurt, but I'll try my best to be very gentle. Ready?"
Harry nodded slightly. She had light red hair and very brown eyes. Something about her seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn't pin it down. She seemed to sense his gaze and smiled at him again. "I've got to hold the hilt while I wrap the cloth around the wound, alright?" Harry nodded. "Can you try and hold very still?" Harry nodded again and looked away as her hand reached for the dragon's head.
Glynnis' cry of surprise mingled with his own scream of agony. The second she had touched the hilt, the dragon blade had released a surge of energy that seared into his flesh like fire. He jerked his head back in her direction and saw, with growing alarm, his would be rescuer flying across the clearing as if having been thrown. She landed on the ground with a thump. She sat up slowly and shook her head. Then she stared at Harry with fearful eyes. "What is that thing?" she asked, her voice a frightened whisper, her pointed finger shaking. "That knife. I reached for it and it just . . . I don't know . . . it was like a jolt of electricity or something. It just seemed to throw me away, like it didn't want me to touch you." Glynnis shook her head as if to clear it.
Harry looked down at the knife and saw the dragon's eyes glaring at Glynnis. He groaned. He'd forgotten that the dagger was wizard made. Harry closed his eyes and tried desperately to think of something, anything, that would explain what just happened.
Glynnis watched the boy's face contort in confusion and pain. She picked herself up and shuffled to his side. Harry felt her hand on his good shoulder and looked up at her. "I'm sorry," he said weakly. "I didn't know it would do that." Glynnis leaned closer. "Harry," she said softly, "what is this thing?" she asked, her gaze drawn to the dragon.
Harry turned away. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes and he just shook his head. "I can't tell you. You should just go now." Glynnis lifted her hand and laid it gently against Harry's cheek and turned his face to hers. "I will not go now," she told him firmly. "I don't know who you think I am but I, for one, do not leave injured children alone in the woods. So please put that thought from your mind and help me figure out what to do, alright?" Harry raised his eyes to hers and saw that she meant it. Here was someone who would not leave him. That thought alone threatened more tears. He blinked rapidly to dispel them and nodded.
"Right then," Glynnis smiled and she smoothed back the hair on Harry's forehead. The lightening shaped scar stood out starkly against the pale white skin. Glynnis' smile faded as she stared down at it. "I should have known," she breathed. "You're Harry Potter."
