Chapter Twelve: Anguish, Death, Love, Hope and Hate

Madam Pomfrey saw Dumbledore enter the room and sighed.

"She's in a very fragile state."
"I know, Poppy." Dumbledore nodded. "I wish to speak with her alone, though." Madam Pomfrey also nodded and left.  Dumbledore approached the bed.  She was sitting up, but her back was to him.

"Jasna?" Dumbledore called her name, cautiously.  She didn't move. "Jasna…" Dumbledore put his hand on her shoulder.  Slowly, she turned her head.  Dumbledore didn't have any outward reaction to the expressionless face that he met.  Though it was a surprising one.

Jasna looked like a skeleton.  Her sallow skin stretched across the bones in her face as if there wasn't enough to cover her whole body, giving her a sunken look.  Her bright green eyes were twice their usual size and they looked devoid of emotion.  They looked hollow, adding to her sunken appearance.  Her lips were white and her raven hair framed the pallid face.  Dumbledore noticed a small streak of grayish white in her hair.  She had a few scars, but all of them were minor.  She had lost a lot of weight.  She was barely alive.

"Jasna, do you know where you are?" Jasna nodded. "Do you know what happened to you?" Again, she nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head. "That's alright.  You don't have to talk about it."

"I don't trust you." She hissed the words icily.  Dumbledore frowned.

"You don't trust me?"
"It's your fault!" she screamed, "You said we'd be safe!  You said we had nothing to worry about!  McGonagall was right, I should have left, I should have gone far, far away from here!  I should have left, I should have left…" From those giant, sad eyes, streams of tears began to fall down her sickly face.

"Jasna, I said you should have stayed and I stand by that statement.  You are safer here than anywhere else.  He would have found you even if you had gone to Siberia.  It would have made no difference.  He was determined.  But had you have been anywhere else, you wouldn't have the wonderful medical works of our very own Madam Pomfrey.  You might have been dead right now."
"Maybe… Maybe I'm better off dead…" Jasna whispered.  Dumbledore sadly shook his head.

"There is more to life than death, Jasna.  Much more."
"My mother's dead."
"Yes, she is."
"Would she have been alive if we had stayed in Massachusetts?"

"Probably not." Jasna let out a small sob. "Jasna, you may not like it, but all of this was going to happen one way or another.  He would have found your mother one day, sooner or later, and he would have done the exact same thing.  Then he would have found you, wherever in the world you happened to be.  Do not think about what might have happened if you did something different because the outcome would always be the same.  You had no way of preventing this, Jasna.  What matters is, you are alive." There was silence when Dumbledore finished.  Finally, Jasna looked up at the old, wise wizard with her sad eyes, brimming with new tears.  Her next words were in a questioning, confused, sad and regretful whisper.

"Am I, Professor?" Dumbledore didn't say a word. "I died the moment she did.  I know I did.  I know it.  She didn't deserve to die.  Not like that."
"Life goes on, Jasna.  With or without our loved ones.  Look at Harry Potter.  He lost his parents when he was only a year old.  No one deserves to die.  Lily and James certainly didn't.  And neither did Mia.  Death is a swift and mysterious thing.  He comes on silent wings when he is least expected.  He nearly came to you."
"I saw Him," Jasna said, "I saw Death."

"What else did you see?" Dumbledore asked.

"You're right.  It was so silent and sudden.  But He wasn't the first thing I met.  I… I met Anguish."

"What did Anguish say?"

"You mean I wasn't going crazy?" Jasna asked, surprised.

"When in extreme agony, some people believe they speak to their pain.  Perhaps it was temporary insanity and perhaps not.  What did it say?"

"It said… It said he didn't love me."

"Who didn't love you?"

"He said… Harry.  He said Harry didn't love me.  I said it was a lie.  It said if I just let go that everything would be fine.  Then, I saw Death."

"And what did it say?" Dumbledore said, patiently.  Jasna remembered it all too well. 

She was on the steps when she saw Death.  His voice was not threatening.

**Jasna, come with me.**

I can't.

**Yes you can.**

No, I can't.  Harry.

**Do you love him?**

Yes.

**Does he love you?**

I don't know.

**Anguish says many things to torture His victims.  You must not hold it against Him, it's His job.  However, sometimes the truth is the most painful thing He can say.**

Are you saying Harry doesn't love me?

**I am saying be wary of what He said.  I do not know what he told you, but be wary.**

I… I don't know what to do…

**You can come with me, or you can stay.  There are consequences for each.**

Consequences?  How?

**There are many things that make up the corners of this earth.  There is Anguish.  There is Death.  There is Hope.  There is Love.  And there is Hate.**

I don't understand.

**Love can save you from Death, Jasna.  His Love for you can save you.  But your father's Hate for you can destroy you.  Therefore, you have a choice.**

"He sounded very… He didn't sound cruel.  He sounded neutral."

"Death is not cruel." Dumbledore told her. "He is neither good nor evil.  He is neutral."

"He came for me.  He said I had a choice."

"You chose to stay."

"I'm scared."
"I know." Dumbledore nodded. "I know.  Do you want to talk to Harry?" Jasna's eyes suddenly became ice cold.

"No," she answered simply.

"I know he wants to see you.  He's worried about you."
"Tell him I died."

"You know you don't want me to tell him that," said Dumbledore, "It'll tear him apart."

"You don't know that."
"Jasna." Dumbledore merely said her name.

"What?"

"He wants to see you."

"Send him in then." Jasna gave in, reluctantly.  Dumbledore rose and walked to the door.  As he left a young, terrified looking teenager entered, his green eyes were glistening with tears.  Jasna saw he'd been trying hard not to cry.  She felt little sympathy.  He was doing it again, thinking he got the worst of it.

Harry walked over to her bed hurriedly, seeing she was awake.  She was still bruised and beaten and extremely pale.  She looked a bit like a recovering anorexic that had also been through a very bad fight.

"Jasna!" Harry sighed with relief.  It felt good to say her name again, knowing she could hear him and respond.  She stared at him, blankly, with those sunken eyes.

"Hello, Harry," she finally replied, blandly.

"I'm so glad you're OK.  Ron and Hermione, too, we were so worried about you!"

"Were you?"
"What?" Harry frowned, confused.  What was she saying?

"I said were you worried?" Jasna repeated.  Her face was completely impassive.  She wasn't about to fall for his charm this time.
"Jasna, I love you!" Harry cried and tried to put his arms around her but she pulled away.

"Are you sure?" Jasna said quietly.  The words that leaked from her lips pierced Harry's soul like hot daggers.  Her voice was like a woeful wind, forever constant in its sorrowful whispers.

"Harry, you don't look so good. Maybe you should eat some more of your breakfast…" Ron piled some more bacon on Harry's plate. 

"Thanks Ron," Harry smiled weakly. He hadn't eaten dinner either. But he felt he couldn't keep anything in him. Not since he saw the broken spirit that had once been Jasna.  He mashed his eggs around his plate and sighed.

"Oh Harry…Starving yourself is not the way to help Jasna. Or anything else," Hermione put another spoonful of eggs on his plate.

"Yeah Harry, she's right. I mean, she's Hermione." Ron piled some more sausage on his plate. Harry stared at the pile of food on his plate, which was now steadily growing.

"Have some more fruit."

"More toast."

"More eggs."

"Syrup?"

"No…no thank you. I appreciate it, but I'm just not hungry. Don't worry."

"I want to see every single bite of that food gone BEFORE BREAKFAST IS DONE!" Harry jumped in his seat, and looked disturbed as he ate his food, nervously glancing at Hermione every now and then.

"Wow, Hermione. That's the way to do it," Ron said wonderingly. Hermione blushed.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up from his breakfast and saw the face of Albus Dumbledore looking very grave.

"What is it, Professor?" asked Harry.  Ron and Hermione were also anxiously awaiting the answer.

"We need your help.  It's Jasna, no one can get her to eat or speak.  We were wondering if perhaps you could convince her to do at least one." Harry nodded and stood up.  Ron and Hermione watched them exit the hall.  Ron leaned in close to Hermione.

"How can he convince her to eat when he's not eating himself?"