Chapter Three
By: Nymphadora Tonks1
A Month Ago, A Few Days After Harry Left to Battle Voldemort
Tired, so very tired. Harry tried to stand, but couldn't manage it; he was far too weak. He lifted his head a few inches off the ground and tried to observe his surroundings, but it was completely dark. He tried to feel the ground beneath him, to see if it was grass, or concrete, or what; but his body was totally numb, and he couldn't move anything but his head, and that was quite taxing. He laid his cheek back on the ground, and it was wet, he could tell as much. He licked his dry lips, and tasted blood. He was lying in a puddle of blood. He tried to remember what had happened, what he was doing here. He could vaguely remember battling with Voldemort, but that was fuzzy. The only thing he could think about was he had to get back to Severus. It was during his battle with Voldemort that he new for sure that he loved Severus, more than anything. And he hadn't got to tell him his feelings; and now it seemed as though he wouldn't have the chance. It had only been one night; but one night was all it took. He remembered the feeling of Severus' kisses, the utter completion he felt upon entering the older wizard, as they shared the most intimate of things. Felt the connection that they shared; one he always knew was there, but had chosen to ignore. One he knew Severus had felt too, one he disguised with anger, sharp comments, and glares. They thought it would go away, by ignoring it, but the truth was, it never would. All it took was one night, the first night, maybe the last night.
Harry had no idea how long it had been, or how he was still alive. But wherever he was, he had to get home; to tell Severus that what they had shared was something special, and he wanted more; to confess his love for the Potions Master. He needed to disapparate; but he was so tired, so weak. It felt as though all his magic had been drained along with his energy, and apparently, a great amount of his blood. Harry opened his eyes once again, trying as hard as he could to fight the loss of consciousness threatening to overpower him; if he let it, he may never regain it, and he had to get back to Severus.
Focusing all the strength and magic he could, he tried to disapparate, closing his eyes reluctantly in his effort. He thought he heard the 'crack' but wasn't sure. He couldn't tell if he was lying somewhere different or not; he was too numb, and it was too dark. The sudden urge to lose consciousness was too strong, and he couldn't fight it. Pleaseā¦someone⦠and Harry knew no more.
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Hagrid was sitting by his fire, drinking tea, when he heard a distressed yell from the Forbidden Forest. It sounded like a Thestral, and one in pain. He stood quickly, putting his coat on, and grabbing his crossbow, incase he would have to put it out of its misery. He left his small hut on the grounds, and made his way into the thick trees. It was so dark; he could hardly see anything. He listened intently for any sound, but none came. He continued to walk a little deeper into the forest, and spun around sharply as he heard crunching behind him. "Bane," he said, looking at the centaur, "Haven' seen an injured Thestral aroun' here, have you?"
Bane looked to the sky, and then back to Hagrid. "Saturn is oddly dim tonight," he said.
Hagrid knew where this was going; you could never get a straight answer out of a centaur. Knowing the answer, he thought he would ask again anyway.
"I've never seen Saturn so dim," was Bane's reply.
"Right, well, thanks anyway," Hagrid said. He then bade the centaur goodnight, and continued his trail even deeper into the forest. The trees started to thin, and open up into a small clearing. Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks. Up ahead, lying in the clearing and bathed in moonlight, was Harry Potter. Robes ragged and torn, and the dying grass beneath him stained red. He appeared to be unconscious. "Harry?" Hagrid said, rushing over to the young wizard, and kneeling down beside him, as tears started to form in his eyes, "Harry? Can you hear me? Yer goin' ter be okay." Hagrid knew that Harry was severely injured, and very near death. His breathing was uneven, and extremely shallow.
Hagrid stood, knowing it would be to dangerous to move the Gryffindor without magic, and ran as fast as he could back to the castle, and to the Headmaster's office. He gasped the password to the gargoyle, and burst into Dumbledore's office. "Headmaster! It's Harry! Hurt bad, we gotta go now!" Hagrid panted.
Dumbledore stood from behind his desk immediately, as did Professor McGonagall who was seated across from Albus. "Hagrid, lead the way." And the three exited the castle, going through the forest as fast as they could.
