11. Damn Her
Running. Running instead of standing up for himself. Harry came to a halt and tried to catch his breath as he stirred these thoughts over in his scar branded skull. Now that he was out of eye sight of Umbridge, he no longer had a splintering headache.
"Holy hippogriffs," he breathed as he slumped down against a wall. "This is going to be some year." He could hear more commotion in the hall even thought it was deserted. The classes are getting ready to let out, he thought warily. The thought of this made the first relieved grin on Harry's face all day. No more Umbridge. But, his conscience interrupted, you need to go back and get your things. Harry slapped his palm against his forehead and slowly brought it down his face. He drew in a deep breath, clutched his wand at his side, and marched back in the direction in which he came from. His feet, which had apparently turned to lead bricks without Harry's permission, dreadfully carried him back towards Umbridge's classroom. As he trudged down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of the last of the Dark Arts students making their way back in her classroom. Umbridge had obviously gone chasing after him. Why else would they return to the dungeon so late? He didn't give it much thought and stealthily slid into the room.
"What happened?" Ron exclaimed as soon as Harry set his toe in the doorway. All the students, just as they had at the mention of Harry and Malfoy's fight on the train, had spun around instantly at the sound of excitement in Ron's voice. But Harry did not respond. He stared at Umbridge, oblivious to the burn that started to build inside him.
"No one is to talk to Mr. Potter while in my classroom," Umbridge spat. Her extremely fake and girlish voice had transformed into a cold, manly like one. She shook her head, cleared her throat, and in a sickly sweet tone of a boy going through puberty said, "Everyone have a splendid day! You are all dismissed. All of you except-except Potter."
"I'll tell you about it later," Harry whispered to Ron, trying not to move his lips so Umbridge wouldn't think he was talking to him. Ron nodded and left with Hermione and Neville. Umbridge rapped her fingers on her desk- smile gone. "What do you want?" "Don't give me attitude Potter," she said with her eyes closed. She clucked her tongue, "I was hoping our first day together would be better. I thought you would have a little more sympathy for me to be honest with you."
"WHAT?" he yelled. "Sympathy for-for you? Give me one good reason why I should have sympathy for you!"
"One word: centaurs."
"Three words: you deserved it!"
"Deserved it? Why did I deserve it? I was trying to make Hogwarts a safer, more secure place for young witches and wizards of now and of tomorrow! How do I get repaid? You and that know-it-all Granger girl lead me to a pack of centaurs! I knew that Firenze was trouble! I should have kept that wicked Trelawney. He probably tipped off the others about me! I did not deserve it!" she explained with her eyes still closed.
"You did too deserve it! You tried to lose Dumbledore his job! You banned everything that included me, the ministry, and Voldemort in the same conversation, article, whatever! You've made professors have breakdowns! And I now have another scar thanks to you! It's not a lightening bolt, oh no! It reads 'I will not tell lies'! You deserved it and you know it!" Harry fired back! His body trembled with the anger that he had towards Umbridge. She had no right to attack him like this. He might have a sliver of sympathy for Snape, but none for Umbridge. His feet had decided to transform back from lead bricks and were now itching to leap at her. His wand was still firmly wrapped in his right hand. Umbridge opened her eyes. It felt as if Harry had been struck with lightening. An indescribable pain rushed through him. He stumbled backwards, clutching his chest. His lungs felt as if they were on fire.
"You'll soon learn Potter that I can be much more horrific," Umbridge said in the ice cold voice again. "I can cause you much more pain and you'll find that it's not always physical. You will suffer while in my class, I will guarantee you that. Prepare to start dying Potter." Harry's eyes burned. His bones felt as if heated daggers were being driven into them. The ice pick was splitting the chunk of ice in two, right down the middle. His fingers fell limp and he screamed in fury. He screamed, trying to stop the pain that pulsated throughout his corpse. He screamed because of the unfulfilled vengeance he wanted on Umbridge. He screamed and then his world went black.
"I'm telling you Dumbledore, if this is going to continue throughout the year, I won't take it! I can't keep occupying hospital beds because of low blood sugar!"
"That's not why he collapsed Poppy."
"Well then why does he keep falling down all over the place? It can't be heat exhaustion because it's October! What other reason could cause him to black out?"
"That I cannot tell you."
"Well if you want me to give him any treatment you're going to have to tell me Dumbledore!"
"He just needs rest. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with him. Thank you for taking care of Harry until I arrived." From the corner of Harry's eye, he could make out two blurry shapes by the door, one of which was walking his way. His body throbbed with left over pain from the little ordeal with Umbridge. Unfortunately for Harry, he could not remember anything she said. "You're awake I see."
"Yeah," Harry breathed, "I am." As he said those three words, it felt as if his ribs had caved in. Whatever Umbridge had done to him was the worst he had felt since summer. He placed a hand on his pajama clad chest and began massaging where it hurt.
"What happened to you?" Dumbledore asked softly. Despite the fact that Harry was still annoyed with him, having the opportunity to complain all he liked about Umbridge without getting detention was comforting to him. "Does this have to do with Professor Umbridge?"
"A lot to do with her. How did you-er-know?" he questioned. Dumbledore shook his head and told Harry to tell him what happened. "Well," he began, cradling his ribs as he spoke, "I went into my Dark Arts class and she started picking on me. I'm not going to take another year of her torture Professor. I don't mean to so stubborn, but-"
"Just go on Harry. I don't care how stubborn you sound," Dumbledore interrupted him quietly.
"When I was arguing with her, my scar started burning and my head was killing me so I left the room. Well, ran out of the room to be specific. She came out after me and I continued to run. Then I went back to get my things and she told me to stay after class."
"Did your scar hurt then?"
"Yes very much," Harry mumbled quietly. He took his eyes away from Dumbledore and instead looked at his hand. "But I don't think I noticed it then because I was just so mad at her. We started yelling at each other and then it felt as if someone drove a truck through me. That's all I remember." The hospital wing was silent. Dumbledore took a seat at the foot of Harry's bed, touched his fingers to his temples and started murmuring to himself. Harry fidgeted uneasily. He hated these silent moments with Dumbledore.
"What were you two yelling about? What did she say to you?" Dumbledore asked calmly, but suddenly.
"I can't remember. I think the drunk driver careening into me left a bigger impact than what we were shouting about."
"That's an interesting description of pain."
"Yeah well," Harry sighed looking up at Dumbledore, "when you endure it as often as I do it becomes harder to describe. I can't use the same description over and over. It would get just plain boring."
"No need to be sarcastic Harry. I understand you are upset. To be honest, I'm not the happiest about having Professor Umbridge back either," Dumbledore explained. He took off his signature half moon spectacles and cleaned them with the inside of his robes which were starting to fade. Slowly and steadily, he placed them back on his nose.
"Why did you hire her then?" Harry asked puzzled. "If you didn't like her last year-how could she possibly redeem herself? Everyone hates her!" Dumbledore shook his head sorrowfully.
"It's seldom I employ a professor whom everyone hates," he continued. What about Snape? Harry thought humorously. "Indeed I believe this is the first time I've done so. There have been professors in the past that I know some have disliked strongly, yet never hated. Hate is such a strong word Harry. It is so bland, yet so powerful. Do you really hate Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes. I do!" he responded and instead of a frown or a shocked expression from Dumbledore, Harry received light laughter.
"I do too. Who would have thought that his ol' man could hate?" he chuckled before resuming seriousness. "The Minister of Magic forced me to take her back."
"Buy why?" Harry asked, sitting himself up, "Er-how? How could somebody force somebody else to hire an ugly, poison-injected toad?" He sat up completely against the throb of his aching ribs and allowed Dumbledore more to space to sit. He obliged to Harry's offer.
"You saw the bandage on her leg the night of Professor Snape's Veritaserum trial correct?"
"Yeah I saw it," he replied. "I'm glad she was injured," he added under his shallow breaths. Harry winced at the thought of how painful a blow to the ribs must have been to Malfoy while they were fighting. He clutched his chest again in an effort to ease the pain. Though it did not help much, it comforted him slightly on the inside.
"She was attacked while at the ministry and had to suspend herself from work there. She pleaded to Cornelius Fudge to find her another job that didn't require so much leg work. Reluctantly, he sent her here.
"He didn't use physical force, but verbal. Fudge threatened to have me fired if I didn't take her back. He said that the Ministry would see it as discrimination against a poor, old, disabled woman with a lust to teach. I, of course, had to give in, but only under two conditions. One was that she was strictly prohibited from creating and or nullifying rules to prevent the anarchy she caused at Hogwarts last year. The second one was that I would have a substitute professor until she was able to walk. She's power hungry, much like Fudge, but with these conditions in order, Hogwarts will most likely maintain sanity, or so I hope." Harry caressed his scalp by running his fingers through his hair. It had become a habit in stressful situations.
"So you have to keep her no matter what," he said to himself. "You mean to tell me that you don't have the authority to fire her?"
"I'm only allowed permission to expel her from our schooling facility if she is a threat to the students and staff," Dumbledore stated. "That's why I needed to know what she said. Any death threats to you," he chuckled, "and she's outta here. Are you sure you don't remember anything?" Harry shook his head and mumbled an apology. He could tell that Dumbledore was disappointed about his lack of memory. He rose to leave and towered over Harry. "I must be departing now to speak with the Arthur and Molly about Order business. I wish I didn't have to skip supper because of it, but I think my stomach can forgive me. One last thing," Dumbledore hesitated. Harry glanced up skeptically. "Do-do you forgive me for last year Harry?" Harry's ribs produced an enormous throb against his chest. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists trying to breathe evenly. The question pained him to answer. Part of Harry wanted to forgive, yet the other half was still bothered with the fact that Dumbledore could have prevented Sirius's death. Sirius had been a father figure to Harry, but now he had none. If he forgave Dumbledore, maybe it would lift a tiny amount of depression off his shoulders.
"I forgive you Professor," Harry murmured. Dumbledore's face broke out in a smile much like Ewan's. He nodded once to acknowledge Harry's response and then left the hospital wing. The pain in Harry's chest eased slightly. As soon as Dumbledore had stepped out of the room, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.
"Feeling better are we?" she asked in an agitated manner. "Well then you can leave now. C'mon! Get up! I need this hospital bed!"
"But my chest and sides still-"
"You were well enough to have a visitor. C'mon now Potter. I need these beds!"
"But I'm the only one in here. Please don't send me back to my classes. I'll be bombarded with questions and my ribs are still killing me!" he pleaded.
"Killing you? It doesn't look like your dying. Besides, classes are over."
"Over?"
"Yes over. I'm glad you can still hear correctly. Now get changed into your robes and leave!" She left Harry for his privacy, muttering to herself about students and how they fake being sick. Harry rolled his eyes and began to dress into his day time clothes. As soon as he finished, he made a bee line for the Great Hall and found it filled with the usual dinner crowd. He scanned the Gryffindor table for Ron and Hermione, but they were not there. Instead, Luna caught his eye and beckoned him over to where she was sitting. He tapped his foot, deciding if he should sit with the Ravenclaws and wondered if anyone would see him. Malfoy was not in the room and neither were Neville, Ginny, Seamus, or Dean. Before he could completely make up his mind, Harry found himself at Luna's side.
"Erm-uh, hi Luna," Harry greeted uneasily as Ravenclaw heads turned to him at his appearance. He saw Cho look up from where she was seated. "I really can't stay and chat. I have-uh-make up work to do."
"You can't work on an empty stomach Harry. Plus, I know you were hospitalized today. You should eat something," Luna informed him very optimistically. "Sit, sit!" Cho watched him like a hawk as he debated with Luna. When Harry sat down, she jumped up and made her way over. "I read your letter," she said as soon as Harry's bum hit the wooden bench.
"Oh did you? I have to admit-" Harry began, but was cut off by Luna.
"You're a little unsure about it aren't you? It's okay I understand."
"Do you?" asked a surprised Harry. His mouth had suddenly become dry as Cho took a seat right across from him. He grabbed a goblet and drank the lukewarm water inside. "Evening Cho," he said nervously.
"Hi. How are you feeling? I heard you collapsed after class today." Gossip is a major problem here, Harry thought, annoyed.
"I'm okay I guess. Thanks," he answered, turning back to Luna. "So how do you-um-understand?" She drew a breath to answer but never had the chance to exhale because Cho had interrupted.
"Just okay?" she asked, feigning sympathy, "Why just okay? Is everything-?"
"I understand because when I first learned I can talk to my mum, I didn't believe it. I thought how could you talk to someone who is-"
"Luna, I'm sure Harry is really, oh what's the word, fascinated by your first words you your mother, but his health is more important than that right now. So, as I was saying Harry, why just o-"
"We weren't talking about my first words to my mum silly," Luna laughed. "We were talking about-oof! Ow Harry!" Harry had stomped on her foot under the table to avoid an awkward moment with Cho. He muttered "sorry" to Luna and took another drink of water to chase down the unpleasant after taste of embarrassment.
"Look, I'd really like to eat dinner with you two, but I have a lot of work to do and it's almost eight o'clock. I should start heading back now," he informed them.
"Okay! We'll talk later then! I'll send you an owl with details," Luna said cheerfully.
"Yeah, alright. Talk to you later then Luna. Bye Cho." Harry stood up and immediately grabbed at the excruciating sharp pain in his ribs. He grimaced and leaned forward onto the table for support. Once he was able to take normal breaths, he straightened up and headed for the door. He heard footsteps following hurriedly behind him as he stepped into the corridors. A hand grabbed his.
"Are you okay?" Cho asked, honestly worried this time. Her eyes glossed over and became shiny with tears. "You're not going to d. . .d. . .die are you?"
"No Cho. I am not going to die," he groaned. Then smiling to himself added, "At least night tonight." She whimpered and the river of tears flowed down her flushed cheeks in a steady current.
"What?" she exclaimed. "They've given you a limited amount of time? How much longer to you have to live?" she choked out through tears.
"Cho," Harry addressed her in an unbelievable tone, "I'm only joking. I'm not going to die." Her lip quivered and then she wrapped her arms around Harry and sobbed into his shoulder. "Ow! Ow! Cho! Please! Leggo! Ow!" He shoved her off of him and clenched his teeth, trying to hide the fact that her hug hurt him a great deal. Offended, her eyes grew large and round. To prevent another breakdown from Cho, Harry touched her cheek and gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Really," he started so quietly it was barely above a whisper, "I'm fine. My ribs just hurt pretty badly. That's why I pushed you off. It hurt when you hugged me, but I'm honestly okay. Trust me; I'm not going to die." She looked at him suspiciously for a split second and then nodded in understanding. Harry started loosening his grip from her hand and started to pull away.
"Can I walk you to your common room please?" Cho asked quickly and spontaneously. Harry bit his lower lip.
"Er-sure if you really want to," he replied. She smiled and tightened her grip. They walked hand in hand to the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was a silent walk, but Harry remembered how much he had missed having someone's hand to hold. He felt comforted, and invulnerable while holding Cho's hand. He felt almost as if he were protecting her from the despair of the world. I'm not trying to play the hero, Harry reassured himself. I just like feeling like I am one.
"Password?" The Fat Lady requested.
"Just a second," Harry told her. "Well, um, it was nice walking with you again. Good. . .goodnight."
"Wait," Cho stopped him, "before you go, if you don't mind me asking, what were you and that Luna girl talking about?" Harry took his eyes off her and stared down at his shoes.
"We were talking about my godfather. She offered me her condolences," he replied rather solemnly.
"But when I sat down she was talking about her mother," she told Harry, her voice quivering once again.
"Oh yes, well her mum died some time ago and she. . .she-er-she said she understood how I felt," he stammered.
"Oh. Oh I see. Are you sure you're not going to die?" The pressured feeling left Harry as he laughed at Cho's question. She smiled uneasily, not sure whether he was making fun of her or just laughing.
"If I were to die, do you think I'd spend my last precious moments on this earth doing school work? I assure you Cho; I'm not going to die." She looked into his eyes and chuckled a little herself. Harry smiled once again and tried to regain possession of his hand. The Fat Lady cleared her throat impatiently and clicked her tongue.
"I better let you go," said Cho.
"Yeah I better be going."
"Yeah. . ."she trailed off. Harry had his hand back, but couldn't find it in him to turn and just walk away. He shuffled a step closer to her. She did the same. Suddenly, Harry was caught in a flash back of last year. They were under the mistle toe, Cho was walking close to him, he felt incredibly nervous, and his mouth was extremely dry. She approached him and. . . .
Harry closed his eyes as he felt Cho's lips brush lightly against his own. All emotion left him, he only felt warm inside. His ribs no longer throbbed and hammered against his chest. The weariness of the day was nowhere to be found. The stress Snape had installed in him had vanished in thin air. The weighty depression of the grievous loss of Sirius had been lifted. Umbridge could not be farther from his thoughts as he stood in front of the portrait, kissing Cho. It was all gone, yet all blissful. He slowly planted his hands on her waist and she clamped her hands down on his shoulders. This moment felt so right to Harry. Time was no longer perpetual, it was frozen for now. He never wanted it to end. The Fat Lady sighed and Harry shot back to earth. He opened his eyes half way and then closed them again feeling reassured. I can't breathe, he thought suddenly and frantically. I can't breathe! Oh no. I'm going to pass out kissing her! Why didn't I take a breath!? Oh man, I can't breathe She's going to think I'm a loser if I faint! I can't breathe! Don't let me pass out please! Fortunately for Harry, Cho pulled away first, gasping. He did the same, refilling his empty lungs. The pain in his sides and chest was restored as he gulped down air, but he didn't mind. The pain had been gone while he was with Cho and now only came back in a faint pulsating form.
"'Night Harry. Hope you feel better," she panted, trying to hide her blushing face.
"Thank you. I already do. Night!" he smiled, steadying his breath and turning to the Fat Lady.
"Can I have the password now?" she asked.
"Plexippus paykulli," Harry revealed. The portrait swung open and he stepped inside, walking on the clouds. Ron and Hermione got up at his entrance, ran over to him, and practically carried him over to where they had been sitting before.
"Spill it," Ron demanded as soon as they had sat Harry down. Hermione moved to the edge of her seat anxiously waiting to hear what had happened between Umbridge and himself. Harry adjusted himself, wincing as he did and took his last needed deep breath.
"Why are you out of breath?" Hermione asked as a hint of concern developed in her voice. "Are you alright Harry?" This seemed to be the question of the day.
"I'm fine. My ribs are really hurting me that's all. It hurts to breathe so it took me a while to get up here from the Great Hall," he lied.
"Maybe they're broken?"
"We wouldn't know. That PMSing Pomfrey wouldn't let us visit you," Ron muttered spitefully.
"No I don't think they're broken," Harry laughed. "Just sore."
"So," Ron urged, "what happened?" Hermione leaned in even closer. Harry glanced around the room to make sure that all ears were on their own conversations.
"Okay," he started out in a low voice, "she was picking on me as you all heard. My scar started to burn and I felt violently ill. So I left. I ran and. . ." he told them the whole thing. He explained angrily about the run in with Snape and his death threat. He shuttered as he relived the pain he felt in Umbridge's classroom and he raised his voice back to its normal level as he told them about his conversation with Dumbledore. By the time he had finished, Ron and Hermione's eyes were sparkling orbs of astonishment. He snorted at their disbelief.
"I am so sorry Harry," Hermione mumbled barely moving her lips and still staring unblinkingly at Harry. "I am so sorry for any grief I have ever caused you." She swallowed and started shaking her head.
"It's alright. I'm-uh-I guess I'm okay now. I'm used to it," he sighed.
"Did she ask Fudge to be sent here?" Ron asked. "I bet she did. I bet she wanted to rub it in your face Harry that she wasn't going anywhere and that she's here to stay."
"I don't know. I hope we have a new Dark Arts teacher next year," Harry implored. He removed his glasses and placed a hand to his eyes. Slowly, but firmly, he began to massage his tired eyelids. "I know I slept through the rest of my classes, but I'm exhausted guys. If you don't mind, I'm going to head to bed."
"I'm way ahead of you pal," Ron said. He stood up and Harry noticed that he was dressed in his night clothes. "You don't mind, d'you Hermione?" Hermione let out a disappointed sigh.
"No I guess not. I've got a load of Head Girl paperwork that needs to be filled out. Goodnight you guys. See you tomorrow. Hope you get better Harry," she smiled warily.
"Thanks. 'Night. Don't stay up too late, you'll tire yourself out."
"What are you? Her mother?" Ron joked. "Goodnight Hermione." As soon as Harry and Ron reached their dormitories, Harry carefully laid down on his bed. His ribs ached as they made contact with the soft mattress, but it was so comfortable and inviting to a tired and worn out Harry that he didn't bother to clutch them. The lead that had once been his feet when walking back to Umbridge's classroom was now resting on his eyelids. They became top heavy and collapsed onto the bottom lids. The stars twinkled in the sky and cast a soft glow into the dormitory. The warmth he had from kissing Cho comforted him into a deep sleep. The night was definitely something to appreciate.
Midnight came sooner than Harry would have wished for. He had heard the usual rustlings of someone coming back into subconsciousness. He tried to ignore it, but whoever woke up a little at midnight had maladroitly slapped something against the wall and awoken Harry with a flinch. He sat up dreamily and looked to his right where the sound had come from. It was Ron. Ron was also sitting in his bed only very much awake. He was cradling his hand (which must have smacked the wall) and was rocking back and forth. Without asking what had happened, Harry nestled himself back under the covers and closed his eyes to try and sleep once again.
"Harry," someone whispered. "Harry are you awake?" The voice sounded frightened and panicky. He let out a sigh that was not audible and sat up again, the agony of his ribs now awake and trying to force him to lie down.
"Whassa matter Ron?" he yawned sleepily. The last of the black sky that he had seen before sleeping had purpled and some of the stars were not visible. Morning comes too soon, Harry told himself sulkily.
"I think I broke my hand or," he bit his lower lip, "or at least a finger. Will you come to the hospital wing with me?"
"How could you break something in your sleep?" Harry half-chuckled, half-whispered. "Was that you who smacked their hand on the wall or something?"
"I dunno! I think I was still asleep at that part. I woke up and felt an incredibly sharp pain in my hand." Ron held up his hand for Harry to see. He put his glasses on and hesitantly stood up and walked over to Ron's bed. Ron's hand was not contorted, but did have an odd discoloration to it.
"Might've just bruised it."
"It hurts a lot more than a bruise Harry. C'mon. Will you please come with me? Maybe she'll check your ribs out. Do they still hurt?"
"If they don't then I'm the Queen of England."
"Nah. Your legs are too hairy. Let's go," Ron said as he stood up and looked down at Harry. "Sorry 'bout waking you up." Harry just smiled and led the way downstairs. His ribs had definitely gotten worse. They felt swollen and stiff and would barely let him move. With every step, a rib on each side of him felt like it punctured his lungs and he'd have to take sudden, quick intakes of breath. Whatever Umbridge had done to him was killing him. They made it to the hospital wing door and stared up at it. The lights were all off and the darkness engulfed them. Harry shivered.
"Should I knock?" Ron asked.
"No! Not you," Harry scolded. "Do you want another broken hand? Maybe we should just go in."
"Okay." Harry placed his hand on the cold hospital door and cautiously pushed it open. Not a sound was to be heard, not even breathing. It was obviously unoccupied. Harry and Ron crept in and squinted into the darkness trying to see. The last bit of light coming from the torches in the corridor was diminished when the door closed silently behind them.
"Ah great," Ron spat. "I can't see a blasted thing!"
"Ssh! If we get caught-"
"What are you doing down here? It is too late for sixth years to be down at this hour!" Madam Pomfrey stood in front of them, though Harry and Ron could only see her outline. They could hear her tap her foot impatiently on the tile floor. "Explain yourselves!"
"I think I broke my hand," Ron said nonchalantly. "I gave it a good smack against the wall a few minutes ago and now it is really bothering me." Madam Pomfrey muttered lumos and the torches in the room lighted and reflected off the stone walls. Her nostrils flared as she glared at Ron and then switched her gaze, which was supported by purplish bags under her eyelids, to Harry.
"And you Potter? You didn't pass out again did you?" she demanded.
"No, but-" "Oh so there is something wrong with you! Silly me. I should have known! Well you there-yes broken hand boy-you take that bed and Potter, I believe you've occupied enough beds for one day. You can just stand." She walked briskly over to Ron. He yelped as she fiercely yanked his hand up to her eyes to examine.
"Careful! CAREFUL!" he shouted. "It still hurts!"
"Don't raise your voice to me young man! I can see that it probably still hurts. However, it is not broken, just badly bruised. Now back to bed with you," she told Ron harshly.
"But I want to wait for Harry," he argued loudly.
"Nope. You need rest. Now up to bed. NOW!" Ron slid off the bed reluctantly, holding his hand. He gave Harry a goodbye glance and made his way back to the common room. Madam Pomfrey had placed her hands on the side of her head and was rubbing them in circular motions. "What's wrong with you?" she muttered.
"Well my-er-nothing," Harry said at last. "I was just accompanying Ron."
"That's good news. With that Umbridge in here all the time, it seems like I never have time for anything. Including sleep," she said to herself.
"Why is she in here all the time?" Harry asked ecstatically. "What's wrong with her?" He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to reveal inside information about Umbridge. Instant blackmail, Harry's conscience laughed.
"Private information Potter." Harry stopped in mid-bounce as Madam Pomfrey destroyed his hopes at getting Umbridge back.
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"You heard me. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to bed before she comes in her again. You need to leave. Goodnight," and before Harry could say another word, she had bustled out into a separate, excluded room of the hospital wing. He was still frozen in his mid bounce position, waiting for her to change her mind and spill everything about Umbridge. She never walked back out. He completed his bounce and then did an about-face heading towards the door. Ron was leaning up against the wall by the entrance to the hospital wing with an I-showed-her smile on his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I was this close to finding blackmail against Umbridge," Harry replied holding up his forefinger and thumb together to indicate how close he was, "This close, but no. I'm never going to get her back! I wish Fred and George were still here. They'd know how to torture her." Ron laughed.
"We could always ask Peeves you know. Remember what they said last year? 'Give her hell from us Peeves,'" Ron imitated.
"True. Come on let's go before we get caught be Filch." Harry shoved his hands in his pajama pant's pockets and walked back to the common room with Ron at his shoulder. They hadn't taken the Marauders' Map and so had to stealthily peek around every corner before turning it. Eventually, they made their way back, whispered the password to the drowsy portrait and clambered inside. Harry felt sleepy again, but something collecting in his chest-perhaps guilt- kept him from making his way to bed.
"Ron, I'm gonna die," he blurted out spontaneously. The words tumbled from his numb lips and lay scattered throughout the deserted common room. There was a momentary awkward silence where Ron didn't know whether to laugh or to take it seriously. Like a true optimist, he smiled.
"When did you run into her?"
"Who? What are you-uh-talking about?" Harry asked, puzzled. He hadn't run into anybody who could have possibly had any connections between him and his final show down with Voldemort. Ron's smile left his face somewhat and caused it to rearrange into that of a confused grin.
"Trelawney. When did you run into her?" Ron asked once again.
"I didn't. I-," Harry began to reply, but then it came to him. Harry had never told Ron that he was going to die unless he was mocking Professor Trelawney. The swelling cloud of what he assumed was guilt, had swollen to its fullest content and began to drizzle a light rain. It spread the guilt to various parts throughout him. His toes felt cold, his hands clammed up, and he felt a heat so blistering under his shirt, it was freezing. How could he keep such an important part of his future from his best friend? "I never told you about my Prophecy," he said lugubriously.
"Your what?"
"That crystal ball that the Death Eaters wanted so badly was my Prophecy. What's going to happen to me basically. I can't remember all of it, but it comes down to this," and then the room went black.
His body felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach as it was flung back into nothingness. He tried to open his eyes, but the gale force winds that he was being tossed through burned them. Harry landed on something hard and splintering. The wind had stopped, his heart rate was back to normal, and the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Just like inside him, it was raining outside. He blinked to focus his eyes and saw that he was sitting next to a familiar man and a young lady who looked extremely nervous. She kept fidgeting and wringing her hands under the table that they sat at. Her glasses magnified her eyes. The man took a sip of his drink and then cleared his throat. Slowly, he began to speak.
"Well thank you for your time Sybil. I must be on my way back to the castle," he said as he picked up his hat and began to position it on top of the long strands of brilliant white hair.
"Wait! Please wait! Please! I feel-er-I feel some. . .something coming Professor! Erm-please!" the lady pleaded as she jumped up from her chair. The man opened his mouth to speak, but shut it immediately as the lady's eyes glazed over. Her nostrils flared and her pupils became dilated. A string of drool trickled down her quivering chin. At that instant, Harry felt checked from behind as he flew forward. The table, man, and lady disappeared and he was flying through nothingness again. However this time, he felt something different. His lips began to move and he felt words form. He couldn't hear them, yet he was speaking them. The wind came to a halt and he was standing were he had always been standing. Ron's jaw nearly touched the floor.
"Wha' 'appened?" Harry slurred, trying to refocus his eyes. "What just happened?" he asked more steadily. Ron's jaw came into contact with his upper jaw. He swallowed, and then it returned to it's normal place-the carpeted floor.
"You went into some kinda trance or something," he said barely moving his face's fixed position. "You. . .you looked at me and then did a really. . .really nice imitation of Dumbledore and that crazy old bat with eyes too big to fit on her face. I mean Trelawney."
"What did I say?" Harry asked. The roof of his mouth felt like it had turned to dust. He swallowed, but nothing happen. It remained dry.
"Something about those who had thrice defied Voldemort and him marking the one born as the seventh month dies as his, I dunno, brother or something because he had powers Voldemort didn't know of."
"Voldemort will mark as his equal the one that is born as the seventh month dies. He has powers the dark lord knows not. They can't die at the hand of each other," Harry muttered.
"Yeah it was something along those lines!"
"That's my Prophecy Ron. Bottom line is either I kill Voldemort in the end, or he kills me. I don't know how though because we have a feather from the same phoenix in our wands! Our wands are brothers! You can't kill someone with a sibling wand!" Harry added, frustrated. He sat down on the couch as Ron shifted his position uneasily. Harry knew he had something to say, but it was something that Ron had trouble saying. Just say it. From this point I can handle anything, he thought to himself heatedly.
"Well, erm, why?" Ron managed to ask without offending Harry.
"Because that's the Prophecy," Harry muttered. "That's my future mate."
"Yeah I know that, but why does it have to be you who kills Voldemort. If Dumbledore is the only one he ever feared, then why doesn't he just do it? 'S not like he's using your wand or anything."
"I don't know," Harry said suddenly skeptically. "Why couldn't he have done that all along?" He started to pace back and forth thinking deeply. Perhaps Dumbledore was really on Voldemort's side, purposely failing to kill him, so that Harry would die trying to do what Dumbledore could not. Harry didn't want to believe that that was what really was going on, but he had become more suspicious of Dumbledore ever since Sirius died. Dumbledore let him die, he thought bitterly.
"Or maybe something catastrophic will happen if the Prophecy is not fulfilled," Ron interjected. Harry considered this and then shook his head.
"No I don't think so. It's just a prediction."
"Then why did those Death Eaters want it so badly?" Harry's heart sank. He knew it had to be more than a prediction or else it wouldn't have been taken so seriously. "You're in denial," Ron laughed. And the laugh comforted him. Ron was laughing at the fact that Harry could die and to Harry, it eased the tension.
"True, but I don't want to talk about it anymore," he muttered. Harry started the usual climb up to the dormitories, but Ron did not follow. "Aren't you coming?"
"No. Not yet. There are a few things I need to add to your letter," he smiled nervously. Harry shrugged and turned to his bed. His ribs did not hurt anymore.
The next day went by in a whirl wind. Gryffindors did not have Dark Arts, but instead potions with Snape. His classes seemed to go by in a rush (except for Mr. Binn's class which dragged on for too long) and before he would have liked, it was time for potions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked up to Snape's dungeon door and awaited their welcome in. Malfoy was huddled around Crabbe and Goyle, but instead of looking remorse, he looked malicious. As the trio walked to the class, he smiled devilishly and began whispering rapidly to Crabbe and Goyle.
"Looks like that scumbag is feeling a whole lot better," Hermione said harshly. "Yesterday he looked as if he had eaten a rotten potato. This could only mean one thing."
"What?" Harry and Ron asked in unison.
"Something good for him, but bad for the rest of us, happened in the case against his dad and Professor Renton."
"You're probably right Hermione," Ron agreed. "I hope the ministry can see past his money and into the black, cold heart of his."
"I hope Malfoy goes to Azkaban too," Harry added onto Ron's thought. Just then, the door opened with a bang and Snape poked his pale, somewhat wrinkled face out into the open. The grease in his hair shined in the light of the torches.
"In," he commanded. "Now." He spun around and led the way in. A foul, musty odor of old liquor and rotting wood gagged the class. The students slowly covered their mouth and nose with the cuff of their cloaks and sat down cautiously in their seats. Snape sat down behind his own desk and stared at the class. His reddish-pink eyes shifted from face to face and blinked unevenly. He then pulled his beginnings of jowls into a twisted and gnarled smile. It was the first smile Harry had ever seen Snape give. Even Malfoy looked astonished.
"What's wrong with him?" Ron whispered to Harry, but Harry didn't reply. He kept his eyes on Snape whose face contorted and contracted underneath the skin. He parted his cracked lips to reveal an open mouth occupied with yellow, if not green, teeth. Snape then started a ragged, heavy breathing that sounded like shards of glass being raked against concrete. He tried to grip the flat surface of the desk, turning his knuckles white in effort. His breathing stopped and his eyes darted around the room until they focused on Harry.
"Damn her," Snape muttered and then vomited a thick, black liquid with flecks of red onto his desk. Blood began to trickle slowly down from the corners of his lips and drip onto his desk like a leaky faucet. He threw up more black matter freckled with blood. "Damn her," he croaked out again. Snape's blood shot eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he began to cough. He passed out face down in his own regurgitation.
Running. Running instead of standing up for himself. Harry came to a halt and tried to catch his breath as he stirred these thoughts over in his scar branded skull. Now that he was out of eye sight of Umbridge, he no longer had a splintering headache.
"Holy hippogriffs," he breathed as he slumped down against a wall. "This is going to be some year." He could hear more commotion in the hall even thought it was deserted. The classes are getting ready to let out, he thought warily. The thought of this made the first relieved grin on Harry's face all day. No more Umbridge. But, his conscience interrupted, you need to go back and get your things. Harry slapped his palm against his forehead and slowly brought it down his face. He drew in a deep breath, clutched his wand at his side, and marched back in the direction in which he came from. His feet, which had apparently turned to lead bricks without Harry's permission, dreadfully carried him back towards Umbridge's classroom. As he trudged down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of the last of the Dark Arts students making their way back in her classroom. Umbridge had obviously gone chasing after him. Why else would they return to the dungeon so late? He didn't give it much thought and stealthily slid into the room.
"What happened?" Ron exclaimed as soon as Harry set his toe in the doorway. All the students, just as they had at the mention of Harry and Malfoy's fight on the train, had spun around instantly at the sound of excitement in Ron's voice. But Harry did not respond. He stared at Umbridge, oblivious to the burn that started to build inside him.
"No one is to talk to Mr. Potter while in my classroom," Umbridge spat. Her extremely fake and girlish voice had transformed into a cold, manly like one. She shook her head, cleared her throat, and in a sickly sweet tone of a boy going through puberty said, "Everyone have a splendid day! You are all dismissed. All of you except-except Potter."
"I'll tell you about it later," Harry whispered to Ron, trying not to move his lips so Umbridge wouldn't think he was talking to him. Ron nodded and left with Hermione and Neville. Umbridge rapped her fingers on her desk- smile gone. "What do you want?" "Don't give me attitude Potter," she said with her eyes closed. She clucked her tongue, "I was hoping our first day together would be better. I thought you would have a little more sympathy for me to be honest with you."
"WHAT?" he yelled. "Sympathy for-for you? Give me one good reason why I should have sympathy for you!"
"One word: centaurs."
"Three words: you deserved it!"
"Deserved it? Why did I deserve it? I was trying to make Hogwarts a safer, more secure place for young witches and wizards of now and of tomorrow! How do I get repaid? You and that know-it-all Granger girl lead me to a pack of centaurs! I knew that Firenze was trouble! I should have kept that wicked Trelawney. He probably tipped off the others about me! I did not deserve it!" she explained with her eyes still closed.
"You did too deserve it! You tried to lose Dumbledore his job! You banned everything that included me, the ministry, and Voldemort in the same conversation, article, whatever! You've made professors have breakdowns! And I now have another scar thanks to you! It's not a lightening bolt, oh no! It reads 'I will not tell lies'! You deserved it and you know it!" Harry fired back! His body trembled with the anger that he had towards Umbridge. She had no right to attack him like this. He might have a sliver of sympathy for Snape, but none for Umbridge. His feet had decided to transform back from lead bricks and were now itching to leap at her. His wand was still firmly wrapped in his right hand. Umbridge opened her eyes. It felt as if Harry had been struck with lightening. An indescribable pain rushed through him. He stumbled backwards, clutching his chest. His lungs felt as if they were on fire.
"You'll soon learn Potter that I can be much more horrific," Umbridge said in the ice cold voice again. "I can cause you much more pain and you'll find that it's not always physical. You will suffer while in my class, I will guarantee you that. Prepare to start dying Potter." Harry's eyes burned. His bones felt as if heated daggers were being driven into them. The ice pick was splitting the chunk of ice in two, right down the middle. His fingers fell limp and he screamed in fury. He screamed, trying to stop the pain that pulsated throughout his corpse. He screamed because of the unfulfilled vengeance he wanted on Umbridge. He screamed and then his world went black.
"I'm telling you Dumbledore, if this is going to continue throughout the year, I won't take it! I can't keep occupying hospital beds because of low blood sugar!"
"That's not why he collapsed Poppy."
"Well then why does he keep falling down all over the place? It can't be heat exhaustion because it's October! What other reason could cause him to black out?"
"That I cannot tell you."
"Well if you want me to give him any treatment you're going to have to tell me Dumbledore!"
"He just needs rest. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with him. Thank you for taking care of Harry until I arrived." From the corner of Harry's eye, he could make out two blurry shapes by the door, one of which was walking his way. His body throbbed with left over pain from the little ordeal with Umbridge. Unfortunately for Harry, he could not remember anything she said. "You're awake I see."
"Yeah," Harry breathed, "I am." As he said those three words, it felt as if his ribs had caved in. Whatever Umbridge had done to him was the worst he had felt since summer. He placed a hand on his pajama clad chest and began massaging where it hurt.
"What happened to you?" Dumbledore asked softly. Despite the fact that Harry was still annoyed with him, having the opportunity to complain all he liked about Umbridge without getting detention was comforting to him. "Does this have to do with Professor Umbridge?"
"A lot to do with her. How did you-er-know?" he questioned. Dumbledore shook his head and told Harry to tell him what happened. "Well," he began, cradling his ribs as he spoke, "I went into my Dark Arts class and she started picking on me. I'm not going to take another year of her torture Professor. I don't mean to so stubborn, but-"
"Just go on Harry. I don't care how stubborn you sound," Dumbledore interrupted him quietly.
"When I was arguing with her, my scar started burning and my head was killing me so I left the room. Well, ran out of the room to be specific. She came out after me and I continued to run. Then I went back to get my things and she told me to stay after class."
"Did your scar hurt then?"
"Yes very much," Harry mumbled quietly. He took his eyes away from Dumbledore and instead looked at his hand. "But I don't think I noticed it then because I was just so mad at her. We started yelling at each other and then it felt as if someone drove a truck through me. That's all I remember." The hospital wing was silent. Dumbledore took a seat at the foot of Harry's bed, touched his fingers to his temples and started murmuring to himself. Harry fidgeted uneasily. He hated these silent moments with Dumbledore.
"What were you two yelling about? What did she say to you?" Dumbledore asked calmly, but suddenly.
"I can't remember. I think the drunk driver careening into me left a bigger impact than what we were shouting about."
"That's an interesting description of pain."
"Yeah well," Harry sighed looking up at Dumbledore, "when you endure it as often as I do it becomes harder to describe. I can't use the same description over and over. It would get just plain boring."
"No need to be sarcastic Harry. I understand you are upset. To be honest, I'm not the happiest about having Professor Umbridge back either," Dumbledore explained. He took off his signature half moon spectacles and cleaned them with the inside of his robes which were starting to fade. Slowly and steadily, he placed them back on his nose.
"Why did you hire her then?" Harry asked puzzled. "If you didn't like her last year-how could she possibly redeem herself? Everyone hates her!" Dumbledore shook his head sorrowfully.
"It's seldom I employ a professor whom everyone hates," he continued. What about Snape? Harry thought humorously. "Indeed I believe this is the first time I've done so. There have been professors in the past that I know some have disliked strongly, yet never hated. Hate is such a strong word Harry. It is so bland, yet so powerful. Do you really hate Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes. I do!" he responded and instead of a frown or a shocked expression from Dumbledore, Harry received light laughter.
"I do too. Who would have thought that his ol' man could hate?" he chuckled before resuming seriousness. "The Minister of Magic forced me to take her back."
"Buy why?" Harry asked, sitting himself up, "Er-how? How could somebody force somebody else to hire an ugly, poison-injected toad?" He sat up completely against the throb of his aching ribs and allowed Dumbledore more to space to sit. He obliged to Harry's offer.
"You saw the bandage on her leg the night of Professor Snape's Veritaserum trial correct?"
"Yeah I saw it," he replied. "I'm glad she was injured," he added under his shallow breaths. Harry winced at the thought of how painful a blow to the ribs must have been to Malfoy while they were fighting. He clutched his chest again in an effort to ease the pain. Though it did not help much, it comforted him slightly on the inside.
"She was attacked while at the ministry and had to suspend herself from work there. She pleaded to Cornelius Fudge to find her another job that didn't require so much leg work. Reluctantly, he sent her here.
"He didn't use physical force, but verbal. Fudge threatened to have me fired if I didn't take her back. He said that the Ministry would see it as discrimination against a poor, old, disabled woman with a lust to teach. I, of course, had to give in, but only under two conditions. One was that she was strictly prohibited from creating and or nullifying rules to prevent the anarchy she caused at Hogwarts last year. The second one was that I would have a substitute professor until she was able to walk. She's power hungry, much like Fudge, but with these conditions in order, Hogwarts will most likely maintain sanity, or so I hope." Harry caressed his scalp by running his fingers through his hair. It had become a habit in stressful situations.
"So you have to keep her no matter what," he said to himself. "You mean to tell me that you don't have the authority to fire her?"
"I'm only allowed permission to expel her from our schooling facility if she is a threat to the students and staff," Dumbledore stated. "That's why I needed to know what she said. Any death threats to you," he chuckled, "and she's outta here. Are you sure you don't remember anything?" Harry shook his head and mumbled an apology. He could tell that Dumbledore was disappointed about his lack of memory. He rose to leave and towered over Harry. "I must be departing now to speak with the Arthur and Molly about Order business. I wish I didn't have to skip supper because of it, but I think my stomach can forgive me. One last thing," Dumbledore hesitated. Harry glanced up skeptically. "Do-do you forgive me for last year Harry?" Harry's ribs produced an enormous throb against his chest. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists trying to breathe evenly. The question pained him to answer. Part of Harry wanted to forgive, yet the other half was still bothered with the fact that Dumbledore could have prevented Sirius's death. Sirius had been a father figure to Harry, but now he had none. If he forgave Dumbledore, maybe it would lift a tiny amount of depression off his shoulders.
"I forgive you Professor," Harry murmured. Dumbledore's face broke out in a smile much like Ewan's. He nodded once to acknowledge Harry's response and then left the hospital wing. The pain in Harry's chest eased slightly. As soon as Dumbledore had stepped out of the room, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.
"Feeling better are we?" she asked in an agitated manner. "Well then you can leave now. C'mon! Get up! I need this hospital bed!"
"But my chest and sides still-"
"You were well enough to have a visitor. C'mon now Potter. I need these beds!"
"But I'm the only one in here. Please don't send me back to my classes. I'll be bombarded with questions and my ribs are still killing me!" he pleaded.
"Killing you? It doesn't look like your dying. Besides, classes are over."
"Over?"
"Yes over. I'm glad you can still hear correctly. Now get changed into your robes and leave!" She left Harry for his privacy, muttering to herself about students and how they fake being sick. Harry rolled his eyes and began to dress into his day time clothes. As soon as he finished, he made a bee line for the Great Hall and found it filled with the usual dinner crowd. He scanned the Gryffindor table for Ron and Hermione, but they were not there. Instead, Luna caught his eye and beckoned him over to where she was sitting. He tapped his foot, deciding if he should sit with the Ravenclaws and wondered if anyone would see him. Malfoy was not in the room and neither were Neville, Ginny, Seamus, or Dean. Before he could completely make up his mind, Harry found himself at Luna's side.
"Erm-uh, hi Luna," Harry greeted uneasily as Ravenclaw heads turned to him at his appearance. He saw Cho look up from where she was seated. "I really can't stay and chat. I have-uh-make up work to do."
"You can't work on an empty stomach Harry. Plus, I know you were hospitalized today. You should eat something," Luna informed him very optimistically. "Sit, sit!" Cho watched him like a hawk as he debated with Luna. When Harry sat down, she jumped up and made her way over. "I read your letter," she said as soon as Harry's bum hit the wooden bench.
"Oh did you? I have to admit-" Harry began, but was cut off by Luna.
"You're a little unsure about it aren't you? It's okay I understand."
"Do you?" asked a surprised Harry. His mouth had suddenly become dry as Cho took a seat right across from him. He grabbed a goblet and drank the lukewarm water inside. "Evening Cho," he said nervously.
"Hi. How are you feeling? I heard you collapsed after class today." Gossip is a major problem here, Harry thought, annoyed.
"I'm okay I guess. Thanks," he answered, turning back to Luna. "So how do you-um-understand?" She drew a breath to answer but never had the chance to exhale because Cho had interrupted.
"Just okay?" she asked, feigning sympathy, "Why just okay? Is everything-?"
"I understand because when I first learned I can talk to my mum, I didn't believe it. I thought how could you talk to someone who is-"
"Luna, I'm sure Harry is really, oh what's the word, fascinated by your first words you your mother, but his health is more important than that right now. So, as I was saying Harry, why just o-"
"We weren't talking about my first words to my mum silly," Luna laughed. "We were talking about-oof! Ow Harry!" Harry had stomped on her foot under the table to avoid an awkward moment with Cho. He muttered "sorry" to Luna and took another drink of water to chase down the unpleasant after taste of embarrassment.
"Look, I'd really like to eat dinner with you two, but I have a lot of work to do and it's almost eight o'clock. I should start heading back now," he informed them.
"Okay! We'll talk later then! I'll send you an owl with details," Luna said cheerfully.
"Yeah, alright. Talk to you later then Luna. Bye Cho." Harry stood up and immediately grabbed at the excruciating sharp pain in his ribs. He grimaced and leaned forward onto the table for support. Once he was able to take normal breaths, he straightened up and headed for the door. He heard footsteps following hurriedly behind him as he stepped into the corridors. A hand grabbed his.
"Are you okay?" Cho asked, honestly worried this time. Her eyes glossed over and became shiny with tears. "You're not going to d. . .d. . .die are you?"
"No Cho. I am not going to die," he groaned. Then smiling to himself added, "At least night tonight." She whimpered and the river of tears flowed down her flushed cheeks in a steady current.
"What?" she exclaimed. "They've given you a limited amount of time? How much longer to you have to live?" she choked out through tears.
"Cho," Harry addressed her in an unbelievable tone, "I'm only joking. I'm not going to die." Her lip quivered and then she wrapped her arms around Harry and sobbed into his shoulder. "Ow! Ow! Cho! Please! Leggo! Ow!" He shoved her off of him and clenched his teeth, trying to hide the fact that her hug hurt him a great deal. Offended, her eyes grew large and round. To prevent another breakdown from Cho, Harry touched her cheek and gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Really," he started so quietly it was barely above a whisper, "I'm fine. My ribs just hurt pretty badly. That's why I pushed you off. It hurt when you hugged me, but I'm honestly okay. Trust me; I'm not going to die." She looked at him suspiciously for a split second and then nodded in understanding. Harry started loosening his grip from her hand and started to pull away.
"Can I walk you to your common room please?" Cho asked quickly and spontaneously. Harry bit his lower lip.
"Er-sure if you really want to," he replied. She smiled and tightened her grip. They walked hand in hand to the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was a silent walk, but Harry remembered how much he had missed having someone's hand to hold. He felt comforted, and invulnerable while holding Cho's hand. He felt almost as if he were protecting her from the despair of the world. I'm not trying to play the hero, Harry reassured himself. I just like feeling like I am one.
"Password?" The Fat Lady requested.
"Just a second," Harry told her. "Well, um, it was nice walking with you again. Good. . .goodnight."
"Wait," Cho stopped him, "before you go, if you don't mind me asking, what were you and that Luna girl talking about?" Harry took his eyes off her and stared down at his shoes.
"We were talking about my godfather. She offered me her condolences," he replied rather solemnly.
"But when I sat down she was talking about her mother," she told Harry, her voice quivering once again.
"Oh yes, well her mum died some time ago and she. . .she-er-she said she understood how I felt," he stammered.
"Oh. Oh I see. Are you sure you're not going to die?" The pressured feeling left Harry as he laughed at Cho's question. She smiled uneasily, not sure whether he was making fun of her or just laughing.
"If I were to die, do you think I'd spend my last precious moments on this earth doing school work? I assure you Cho; I'm not going to die." She looked into his eyes and chuckled a little herself. Harry smiled once again and tried to regain possession of his hand. The Fat Lady cleared her throat impatiently and clicked her tongue.
"I better let you go," said Cho.
"Yeah I better be going."
"Yeah. . ."she trailed off. Harry had his hand back, but couldn't find it in him to turn and just walk away. He shuffled a step closer to her. She did the same. Suddenly, Harry was caught in a flash back of last year. They were under the mistle toe, Cho was walking close to him, he felt incredibly nervous, and his mouth was extremely dry. She approached him and. . . .
Harry closed his eyes as he felt Cho's lips brush lightly against his own. All emotion left him, he only felt warm inside. His ribs no longer throbbed and hammered against his chest. The weariness of the day was nowhere to be found. The stress Snape had installed in him had vanished in thin air. The weighty depression of the grievous loss of Sirius had been lifted. Umbridge could not be farther from his thoughts as he stood in front of the portrait, kissing Cho. It was all gone, yet all blissful. He slowly planted his hands on her waist and she clamped her hands down on his shoulders. This moment felt so right to Harry. Time was no longer perpetual, it was frozen for now. He never wanted it to end. The Fat Lady sighed and Harry shot back to earth. He opened his eyes half way and then closed them again feeling reassured. I can't breathe, he thought suddenly and frantically. I can't breathe! Oh no. I'm going to pass out kissing her! Why didn't I take a breath!? Oh man, I can't breathe She's going to think I'm a loser if I faint! I can't breathe! Don't let me pass out please! Fortunately for Harry, Cho pulled away first, gasping. He did the same, refilling his empty lungs. The pain in his sides and chest was restored as he gulped down air, but he didn't mind. The pain had been gone while he was with Cho and now only came back in a faint pulsating form.
"'Night Harry. Hope you feel better," she panted, trying to hide her blushing face.
"Thank you. I already do. Night!" he smiled, steadying his breath and turning to the Fat Lady.
"Can I have the password now?" she asked.
"Plexippus paykulli," Harry revealed. The portrait swung open and he stepped inside, walking on the clouds. Ron and Hermione got up at his entrance, ran over to him, and practically carried him over to where they had been sitting before.
"Spill it," Ron demanded as soon as they had sat Harry down. Hermione moved to the edge of her seat anxiously waiting to hear what had happened between Umbridge and himself. Harry adjusted himself, wincing as he did and took his last needed deep breath.
"Why are you out of breath?" Hermione asked as a hint of concern developed in her voice. "Are you alright Harry?" This seemed to be the question of the day.
"I'm fine. My ribs are really hurting me that's all. It hurts to breathe so it took me a while to get up here from the Great Hall," he lied.
"Maybe they're broken?"
"We wouldn't know. That PMSing Pomfrey wouldn't let us visit you," Ron muttered spitefully.
"No I don't think they're broken," Harry laughed. "Just sore."
"So," Ron urged, "what happened?" Hermione leaned in even closer. Harry glanced around the room to make sure that all ears were on their own conversations.
"Okay," he started out in a low voice, "she was picking on me as you all heard. My scar started to burn and I felt violently ill. So I left. I ran and. . ." he told them the whole thing. He explained angrily about the run in with Snape and his death threat. He shuttered as he relived the pain he felt in Umbridge's classroom and he raised his voice back to its normal level as he told them about his conversation with Dumbledore. By the time he had finished, Ron and Hermione's eyes were sparkling orbs of astonishment. He snorted at their disbelief.
"I am so sorry Harry," Hermione mumbled barely moving her lips and still staring unblinkingly at Harry. "I am so sorry for any grief I have ever caused you." She swallowed and started shaking her head.
"It's alright. I'm-uh-I guess I'm okay now. I'm used to it," he sighed.
"Did she ask Fudge to be sent here?" Ron asked. "I bet she did. I bet she wanted to rub it in your face Harry that she wasn't going anywhere and that she's here to stay."
"I don't know. I hope we have a new Dark Arts teacher next year," Harry implored. He removed his glasses and placed a hand to his eyes. Slowly, but firmly, he began to massage his tired eyelids. "I know I slept through the rest of my classes, but I'm exhausted guys. If you don't mind, I'm going to head to bed."
"I'm way ahead of you pal," Ron said. He stood up and Harry noticed that he was dressed in his night clothes. "You don't mind, d'you Hermione?" Hermione let out a disappointed sigh.
"No I guess not. I've got a load of Head Girl paperwork that needs to be filled out. Goodnight you guys. See you tomorrow. Hope you get better Harry," she smiled warily.
"Thanks. 'Night. Don't stay up too late, you'll tire yourself out."
"What are you? Her mother?" Ron joked. "Goodnight Hermione." As soon as Harry and Ron reached their dormitories, Harry carefully laid down on his bed. His ribs ached as they made contact with the soft mattress, but it was so comfortable and inviting to a tired and worn out Harry that he didn't bother to clutch them. The lead that had once been his feet when walking back to Umbridge's classroom was now resting on his eyelids. They became top heavy and collapsed onto the bottom lids. The stars twinkled in the sky and cast a soft glow into the dormitory. The warmth he had from kissing Cho comforted him into a deep sleep. The night was definitely something to appreciate.
Midnight came sooner than Harry would have wished for. He had heard the usual rustlings of someone coming back into subconsciousness. He tried to ignore it, but whoever woke up a little at midnight had maladroitly slapped something against the wall and awoken Harry with a flinch. He sat up dreamily and looked to his right where the sound had come from. It was Ron. Ron was also sitting in his bed only very much awake. He was cradling his hand (which must have smacked the wall) and was rocking back and forth. Without asking what had happened, Harry nestled himself back under the covers and closed his eyes to try and sleep once again.
"Harry," someone whispered. "Harry are you awake?" The voice sounded frightened and panicky. He let out a sigh that was not audible and sat up again, the agony of his ribs now awake and trying to force him to lie down.
"Whassa matter Ron?" he yawned sleepily. The last of the black sky that he had seen before sleeping had purpled and some of the stars were not visible. Morning comes too soon, Harry told himself sulkily.
"I think I broke my hand or," he bit his lower lip, "or at least a finger. Will you come to the hospital wing with me?"
"How could you break something in your sleep?" Harry half-chuckled, half-whispered. "Was that you who smacked their hand on the wall or something?"
"I dunno! I think I was still asleep at that part. I woke up and felt an incredibly sharp pain in my hand." Ron held up his hand for Harry to see. He put his glasses on and hesitantly stood up and walked over to Ron's bed. Ron's hand was not contorted, but did have an odd discoloration to it.
"Might've just bruised it."
"It hurts a lot more than a bruise Harry. C'mon. Will you please come with me? Maybe she'll check your ribs out. Do they still hurt?"
"If they don't then I'm the Queen of England."
"Nah. Your legs are too hairy. Let's go," Ron said as he stood up and looked down at Harry. "Sorry 'bout waking you up." Harry just smiled and led the way downstairs. His ribs had definitely gotten worse. They felt swollen and stiff and would barely let him move. With every step, a rib on each side of him felt like it punctured his lungs and he'd have to take sudden, quick intakes of breath. Whatever Umbridge had done to him was killing him. They made it to the hospital wing door and stared up at it. The lights were all off and the darkness engulfed them. Harry shivered.
"Should I knock?" Ron asked.
"No! Not you," Harry scolded. "Do you want another broken hand? Maybe we should just go in."
"Okay." Harry placed his hand on the cold hospital door and cautiously pushed it open. Not a sound was to be heard, not even breathing. It was obviously unoccupied. Harry and Ron crept in and squinted into the darkness trying to see. The last bit of light coming from the torches in the corridor was diminished when the door closed silently behind them.
"Ah great," Ron spat. "I can't see a blasted thing!"
"Ssh! If we get caught-"
"What are you doing down here? It is too late for sixth years to be down at this hour!" Madam Pomfrey stood in front of them, though Harry and Ron could only see her outline. They could hear her tap her foot impatiently on the tile floor. "Explain yourselves!"
"I think I broke my hand," Ron said nonchalantly. "I gave it a good smack against the wall a few minutes ago and now it is really bothering me." Madam Pomfrey muttered lumos and the torches in the room lighted and reflected off the stone walls. Her nostrils flared as she glared at Ron and then switched her gaze, which was supported by purplish bags under her eyelids, to Harry.
"And you Potter? You didn't pass out again did you?" she demanded.
"No, but-" "Oh so there is something wrong with you! Silly me. I should have known! Well you there-yes broken hand boy-you take that bed and Potter, I believe you've occupied enough beds for one day. You can just stand." She walked briskly over to Ron. He yelped as she fiercely yanked his hand up to her eyes to examine.
"Careful! CAREFUL!" he shouted. "It still hurts!"
"Don't raise your voice to me young man! I can see that it probably still hurts. However, it is not broken, just badly bruised. Now back to bed with you," she told Ron harshly.
"But I want to wait for Harry," he argued loudly.
"Nope. You need rest. Now up to bed. NOW!" Ron slid off the bed reluctantly, holding his hand. He gave Harry a goodbye glance and made his way back to the common room. Madam Pomfrey had placed her hands on the side of her head and was rubbing them in circular motions. "What's wrong with you?" she muttered.
"Well my-er-nothing," Harry said at last. "I was just accompanying Ron."
"That's good news. With that Umbridge in here all the time, it seems like I never have time for anything. Including sleep," she said to herself.
"Why is she in here all the time?" Harry asked ecstatically. "What's wrong with her?" He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to reveal inside information about Umbridge. Instant blackmail, Harry's conscience laughed.
"Private information Potter." Harry stopped in mid-bounce as Madam Pomfrey destroyed his hopes at getting Umbridge back.
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"You heard me. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to bed before she comes in her again. You need to leave. Goodnight," and before Harry could say another word, she had bustled out into a separate, excluded room of the hospital wing. He was still frozen in his mid bounce position, waiting for her to change her mind and spill everything about Umbridge. She never walked back out. He completed his bounce and then did an about-face heading towards the door. Ron was leaning up against the wall by the entrance to the hospital wing with an I-showed-her smile on his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I was this close to finding blackmail against Umbridge," Harry replied holding up his forefinger and thumb together to indicate how close he was, "This close, but no. I'm never going to get her back! I wish Fred and George were still here. They'd know how to torture her." Ron laughed.
"We could always ask Peeves you know. Remember what they said last year? 'Give her hell from us Peeves,'" Ron imitated.
"True. Come on let's go before we get caught be Filch." Harry shoved his hands in his pajama pant's pockets and walked back to the common room with Ron at his shoulder. They hadn't taken the Marauders' Map and so had to stealthily peek around every corner before turning it. Eventually, they made their way back, whispered the password to the drowsy portrait and clambered inside. Harry felt sleepy again, but something collecting in his chest-perhaps guilt- kept him from making his way to bed.
"Ron, I'm gonna die," he blurted out spontaneously. The words tumbled from his numb lips and lay scattered throughout the deserted common room. There was a momentary awkward silence where Ron didn't know whether to laugh or to take it seriously. Like a true optimist, he smiled.
"When did you run into her?"
"Who? What are you-uh-talking about?" Harry asked, puzzled. He hadn't run into anybody who could have possibly had any connections between him and his final show down with Voldemort. Ron's smile left his face somewhat and caused it to rearrange into that of a confused grin.
"Trelawney. When did you run into her?" Ron asked once again.
"I didn't. I-," Harry began to reply, but then it came to him. Harry had never told Ron that he was going to die unless he was mocking Professor Trelawney. The swelling cloud of what he assumed was guilt, had swollen to its fullest content and began to drizzle a light rain. It spread the guilt to various parts throughout him. His toes felt cold, his hands clammed up, and he felt a heat so blistering under his shirt, it was freezing. How could he keep such an important part of his future from his best friend? "I never told you about my Prophecy," he said lugubriously.
"Your what?"
"That crystal ball that the Death Eaters wanted so badly was my Prophecy. What's going to happen to me basically. I can't remember all of it, but it comes down to this," and then the room went black.
His body felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach as it was flung back into nothingness. He tried to open his eyes, but the gale force winds that he was being tossed through burned them. Harry landed on something hard and splintering. The wind had stopped, his heart rate was back to normal, and the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Just like inside him, it was raining outside. He blinked to focus his eyes and saw that he was sitting next to a familiar man and a young lady who looked extremely nervous. She kept fidgeting and wringing her hands under the table that they sat at. Her glasses magnified her eyes. The man took a sip of his drink and then cleared his throat. Slowly, he began to speak.
"Well thank you for your time Sybil. I must be on my way back to the castle," he said as he picked up his hat and began to position it on top of the long strands of brilliant white hair.
"Wait! Please wait! Please! I feel-er-I feel some. . .something coming Professor! Erm-please!" the lady pleaded as she jumped up from her chair. The man opened his mouth to speak, but shut it immediately as the lady's eyes glazed over. Her nostrils flared and her pupils became dilated. A string of drool trickled down her quivering chin. At that instant, Harry felt checked from behind as he flew forward. The table, man, and lady disappeared and he was flying through nothingness again. However this time, he felt something different. His lips began to move and he felt words form. He couldn't hear them, yet he was speaking them. The wind came to a halt and he was standing were he had always been standing. Ron's jaw nearly touched the floor.
"Wha' 'appened?" Harry slurred, trying to refocus his eyes. "What just happened?" he asked more steadily. Ron's jaw came into contact with his upper jaw. He swallowed, and then it returned to it's normal place-the carpeted floor.
"You went into some kinda trance or something," he said barely moving his face's fixed position. "You. . .you looked at me and then did a really. . .really nice imitation of Dumbledore and that crazy old bat with eyes too big to fit on her face. I mean Trelawney."
"What did I say?" Harry asked. The roof of his mouth felt like it had turned to dust. He swallowed, but nothing happen. It remained dry.
"Something about those who had thrice defied Voldemort and him marking the one born as the seventh month dies as his, I dunno, brother or something because he had powers Voldemort didn't know of."
"Voldemort will mark as his equal the one that is born as the seventh month dies. He has powers the dark lord knows not. They can't die at the hand of each other," Harry muttered.
"Yeah it was something along those lines!"
"That's my Prophecy Ron. Bottom line is either I kill Voldemort in the end, or he kills me. I don't know how though because we have a feather from the same phoenix in our wands! Our wands are brothers! You can't kill someone with a sibling wand!" Harry added, frustrated. He sat down on the couch as Ron shifted his position uneasily. Harry knew he had something to say, but it was something that Ron had trouble saying. Just say it. From this point I can handle anything, he thought to himself heatedly.
"Well, erm, why?" Ron managed to ask without offending Harry.
"Because that's the Prophecy," Harry muttered. "That's my future mate."
"Yeah I know that, but why does it have to be you who kills Voldemort. If Dumbledore is the only one he ever feared, then why doesn't he just do it? 'S not like he's using your wand or anything."
"I don't know," Harry said suddenly skeptically. "Why couldn't he have done that all along?" He started to pace back and forth thinking deeply. Perhaps Dumbledore was really on Voldemort's side, purposely failing to kill him, so that Harry would die trying to do what Dumbledore could not. Harry didn't want to believe that that was what really was going on, but he had become more suspicious of Dumbledore ever since Sirius died. Dumbledore let him die, he thought bitterly.
"Or maybe something catastrophic will happen if the Prophecy is not fulfilled," Ron interjected. Harry considered this and then shook his head.
"No I don't think so. It's just a prediction."
"Then why did those Death Eaters want it so badly?" Harry's heart sank. He knew it had to be more than a prediction or else it wouldn't have been taken so seriously. "You're in denial," Ron laughed. And the laugh comforted him. Ron was laughing at the fact that Harry could die and to Harry, it eased the tension.
"True, but I don't want to talk about it anymore," he muttered. Harry started the usual climb up to the dormitories, but Ron did not follow. "Aren't you coming?"
"No. Not yet. There are a few things I need to add to your letter," he smiled nervously. Harry shrugged and turned to his bed. His ribs did not hurt anymore.
The next day went by in a whirl wind. Gryffindors did not have Dark Arts, but instead potions with Snape. His classes seemed to go by in a rush (except for Mr. Binn's class which dragged on for too long) and before he would have liked, it was time for potions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked up to Snape's dungeon door and awaited their welcome in. Malfoy was huddled around Crabbe and Goyle, but instead of looking remorse, he looked malicious. As the trio walked to the class, he smiled devilishly and began whispering rapidly to Crabbe and Goyle.
"Looks like that scumbag is feeling a whole lot better," Hermione said harshly. "Yesterday he looked as if he had eaten a rotten potato. This could only mean one thing."
"What?" Harry and Ron asked in unison.
"Something good for him, but bad for the rest of us, happened in the case against his dad and Professor Renton."
"You're probably right Hermione," Ron agreed. "I hope the ministry can see past his money and into the black, cold heart of his."
"I hope Malfoy goes to Azkaban too," Harry added onto Ron's thought. Just then, the door opened with a bang and Snape poked his pale, somewhat wrinkled face out into the open. The grease in his hair shined in the light of the torches.
"In," he commanded. "Now." He spun around and led the way in. A foul, musty odor of old liquor and rotting wood gagged the class. The students slowly covered their mouth and nose with the cuff of their cloaks and sat down cautiously in their seats. Snape sat down behind his own desk and stared at the class. His reddish-pink eyes shifted from face to face and blinked unevenly. He then pulled his beginnings of jowls into a twisted and gnarled smile. It was the first smile Harry had ever seen Snape give. Even Malfoy looked astonished.
"What's wrong with him?" Ron whispered to Harry, but Harry didn't reply. He kept his eyes on Snape whose face contorted and contracted underneath the skin. He parted his cracked lips to reveal an open mouth occupied with yellow, if not green, teeth. Snape then started a ragged, heavy breathing that sounded like shards of glass being raked against concrete. He tried to grip the flat surface of the desk, turning his knuckles white in effort. His breathing stopped and his eyes darted around the room until they focused on Harry.
"Damn her," Snape muttered and then vomited a thick, black liquid with flecks of red onto his desk. Blood began to trickle slowly down from the corners of his lips and drip onto his desk like a leaky faucet. He threw up more black matter freckled with blood. "Damn her," he croaked out again. Snape's blood shot eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he began to cough. He passed out face down in his own regurgitation.