As usual, thanks to all those who reviewed (AmethystStar's, Lady Jane Green). The issue of Harry being crazy here is ambiguous and vague, I do agree but really no one in Silverwater is crazy if you think about it. Think about that for a while, it'll give you something to ponder about. :)

Chapter Fifteen – Blood and More Blood

If the situation hadn't been so severe, I would have laughed at the expressions on their faces. They looked stunned.

"You WHAT?" Regan cried.

"He tried to raise-."

"I KNOW, Vasconcelos," Regan snapped. "I am NOT stupid."

"Well, you asked and -."

"Shush!"

All I could hear then was the sound of silence eating us away. I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to fly away and I didn't care if doing it literally was the only way to go. If only I had a broom.

Raising Ginny from the dead was the reason why Ron, Hermione and Lupin sent me to Silverwater in the first place. That was why Ron was really angry at me. Not only had I tried to exhume Ginny from her grave but I had dwelled in the dark arts. I didn't think he could forgive me for that.

"I didn't think it was possible," Regan said in astonishment. "I always thought that raising the dead was impossible, even in the wizard world."

"It should be, but it's not." said Vasco darkly. "Necromelens or the act of raising the dead has been tried and in some instances successful for many centuries by Dark Wizards. During the reign of You Know Who it wasn't really common, for he didn't really care for the dead. I can't remember the name of the spell but it's a long, complicated process that involves calling all guardians of the four sites of the Doomed Underworld and invoking different spirits and demons. You REALLY needed to be skilled in the dark arts to do this.

"Once raised, the dead live eternally but they lived a cursed life. They were brought back from the dead and they breathed the air we breathed again but they remained in the skin in which they died in, rotting or not. Once raised, the former-dead have no trace of goodness within their souls anymore. They only know how to kill."

Like Hermione back in our Hogwarts days, he sounded as though he had swallowed a whole textbook. Better yet, he sounded like he swallowed something found in the Restricted Section. I was astounded that Vasco was knowledgeable in this field of magic and then it occurred to me that I shouldn't have been surprised. He was an intelligent boy after all, even if he did act stupid sometimes. Apparently, Regan seemed surprised as well.

"Since when did you acquire a brain?" she asked. Her response was a cold glare in her direction.

"The question is, how?" Vasco asked me, ignoring Regan.

I opened my mouth to answer his question but Malfoy had beaten me to it.

"The spell most commonly used is Azarusley found in some book my dad harps on about," he said. I was also astounded by this. I always thought Malfoy was too busy admiring himself and his 'status' in the wizard world to take heed of knowledge. "The book itself is rare and is the ultimate source for Necromelens and Dark Magic in general. The question remains, Potter, is how you got your stinkin' hands on it in the first place."

I didn't want to tell them how I managed to get my hands on the rare artefact. Vasco was wrong about one thing. Voldemort wanted the book and he wanted to use Azarusley, which was why Professor Dumbledore hid it away from him during the Second War. The discovery perked Voldemort's ears up and before we knew it, he wanted his grimy hands on it. Dumbledore was the only one who knew why Voldemort wanted it in the first place and was overly zealous in keeping it out of reach from him. Well, Dumbledore wasn't the only person who knew the reason behind Voldemort's desire.

After Voldemort was defeated, the book (I had forgotten its name as well) was transferred to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters under the watchful care of Lupin. It was an old artefact dating back to the time of Salazar Slytherin. And before you ask yes, Grimmauld Place remained headquarters even after Sirius died.

"We're waiting for an answer," said Malfoy as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"Dumbledore had it," I replied. "He had it during the Second War. As soon as Ginny died I found the book at Grimmauld Place. I studied it as intensely as I could within the time frame of two weeks. I didn't quite perfect it-."

"What's Grimmauld Place?" Regan asked.

"The Headquarters for Dumbledore's bloody secret society," Malfoy drawled.

"How did you know-?" I asked before I was interrupted.

"I'm the son of Narcissa Black Malfoy," Malfoy replied, "Who is the RIGHTFUL owner of the place."

Yes, Narcissa did try to get her grimy claws on Grimmauld Place last year but that was an entirely different story. A really long story.

"Excuse me," said Regan. "But go back a few steps here; what IS this book you're harping on about and all that business?"

"I'm surprised you don't know, Zabini," said Malfoy. "Your father was a Death Eater after all."

"I'm a Zabini disgrace, remember? I'm the 'good' Slytherin, the 'black sheep'." Regan scowled at him. "Are you going to answer me or what?"

"We already told you," Vasco replied. "It's a way of raising the dead."

"It's impossible to raise the dead!" Regan proclaimed in a Hermione-like manner.

"It's not impossible," I said solemnly. "It's extremely difficult. Only wizards and witches skilled in the dark arts can do this."

"But why?" Regan asked. Vasco and Malfoy hung around for an answer. "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know!" I cried, shuddering from head to toe. "When Ginny died I cracked. I couldn't believe it! It was different this time. I couldn't save her from leukaemia. It wasn't as if she fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries-."

"What veil?" Regan asked.

"Sssh," interjected Vasco. "Let him continue."

"I thought for some reason that somebody 'up there' was punishing me for not saving all the people who died. They punished me by taking Ginny away from me so I wanted to bring her back from the dead. I didn't care if she was going to live a cursed life, I just wanted her back." I continued to sob even more. "This whole Voldemort disaster was all because of me. He wanted to rule the world and obliterate all Muggles and Muggleborns, fair enough but once he had heard that his ultimate downfall was at my hands alone …"

I didn't have the energy to continue my rant. So instead, I slumped against a nearby wall and allowed the tears to fall silently.

"Goodness me, Potter," said Malfoy in disbelief. "You're loonier than I though."

"I second to that," Regan added. The two of them were unsympathetic towards me but out of the corner of my eye I saw Vasco's face soften slightly.

"That's my story," I cried. "You may think I'm crazy but why on earth do you think I'm here in the first place?"

"He has a point, you know," piped up Vasco.

The three of them remained silent for what seemed like an eternity and like every other silence I had experience, they were deadly.

"That doesn't make up for your crap attitude," Regan snapped. "You may be grieving for Ginny and the fact that you tried to raise her from the dead is a dead giveaway, but it does NOT excuse you for being a snotty brat."

"Excuse me!" I bellowed. "I am NOT a brat!"

"You call me names!" Regan shouted. "Why can't I call you a brat?"

"Because I'm not a brat! You on the other hand are a wh-."

I didn't get the chance to finish, for she had slapped me across the face again. Vasco dove forward and saved me from Regan's attack as she raised her hand once again.

"I think the kid has ha enough bitch-slapping for tonight," he said. "Especially since Malfoy's done most of the bitch-slapping himself."

"You're wrong, Vasconcelos." Malfoy said. "I don't think he's had enough." In one swift movement, Malfoy raised his fist and punched me hard on the nose. As he did this, I heard a stomach-churning crack. Seconds later, blood poured out of my nose like a running faucet.

I didn't have enough energy in me to protest, so I was glad that Vasco did it for me.

"What was that for?" he bellowed.

"That was for beating me up the other night," Malfoy replied, before he slammed me to the ground like a wrestler. "And that was for putting my head through the wall." He then kicked me hard in the ribs, "and that was for being a self-centred pig."

"Who are you calling a pig?" I yelled. "Take a look at yourself." He kicked me again and this time I let out a strangled scream. "What was THAT for?" I cried in anguish.

"That one's for the fact that I despise you!"

"That's enough!"

That didn't come from Vasco, for the voice was stern and female. Suddenly, Dr Bell came into my vision.

"That's enough!" she repeated. "Mr Malfoy, go to my office immediately. Mr Vasconcelos, Miss Zabini, return to your rooms. Mr Potter, come with me."

She picked me up from the ground and provided leaning support as we limped back towards the main building. "Malfoy was the one who hit me!" I whined. "You can't punish me this time! I didn't do anything."

"At the moment my main concern is getting you to a Healer and a Mediwizard," Dr Bell replied. "They look nasty." She tended to my injuries.

"I suppose you'd want to know why they bashed the crap out of me?"

"Don't bother Mr Potter, I heard every word."

"Then why didn't you come in and save me?" I cried.

"You needed people to knock sense into you," Dr Bell replied. "And I think they did a good job."

~**~

Two hours had passed since the incident and I was still in the hospital wing, lying in bed as Madame Gough and Nurse Jones patched me up. I swore that if Malfoy had been more violent, he would have broken something. Fortunately, being the weak man he was, he didn't do any serious damage to me.

The night had been extremely long and extremely difficult. Everything that happened before and since I entered Silverwater had been so arduous that I actually contemplated joining Liv and taking my own life. Thankfully, I was too tired and weary to do anything drastic. Besides, there wasn't a knife in sight. It was Silverwater policy, just like how we weren't allowed to keep our wands.

What the hell was wrong with Regan and Malfoy? Why did Regan have to turn into a monster all of a sudden? I thought that being the subject of Malfoy's callousness for so long would have little effect on me, but the fact that he physically hit me was both puzzling and dreadful. I really was getting a taste of my own medicine – big time.

"Harry?"

I opened my bleary eyes and saw two figures huddled by the side of my bed. I didn't need my glasses to verify who they were. One figure was tall and had bright red hair and another had brown bushy hair. Ron and Hermione.

I shot up in my bed and turned to them. I didn't know what our situation was at the moment but I was so happy to see the two of them in my presence. I then snorted at the irony of them visiting me while I was lying in bed … in a hospital wing, no less. A hospital within a hospital? Now THAT was funny.

I shifted my body around and gazed at them groggily.

"Dr Bell Flooed as soon as she could," said Hermione anxiously. "She told us about what happened. Are you okay?"

I couldn't speak. Despite the fact that I treated them like garbage, Ron and Hermione were there for me every step of the way. They really were great friends. No, they were really great family.

"Harry?" said Ron. "Can you speak?"

I couldn't speak but not because I was muted forever by these injuries, but it was so overcome with gratitude that it overwhelmed me. Suddenly, I wrapped my arms around their necks and embraced them simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. Words didn't need to explain anything. Ron and Hermione understood. I really was sorry for everything that ever happened before this. I disentangled myself from the two of them and turned to Ron. "I'm sorry, Ron," I added quietly, "for trying to raise her from the dead. You don't understand how terrible I've been feeling for the past month." The apologies were coming out like The Horn of Plenty.

I expected Ron to contradict what I said and use those words against me and I hoped against hope that he didn't. I was already beaten around as it was and I didn't want him to rub salt into my wounds. Thankfully, Ron smiled slightly and gave me a manly embrace. "Apology accepted," he said. "And I mean it. You've been through enough."

Ron and Hermione stayed with me while I poured my heart out to them. I told them all about Liv and our little dispute before her death. I was willing to bet that Hermione wanted to reprimand me for being tactless, but given the current situation she decided that doing so wasn't wise. Besides, I saw Ron give her a reproachful look. I told them all about the guilt I'd harboured ever since the night I tried to exhume her grave. They knew about Azarusley so they didn't need a long winded explanation.

I then told them everything that popped into my head. I told them about Regan. Ron looked as though he wasn't happy with my sleeping with her but he said nothing. I told them about how I was rude to Dr Bell and they listened. They nodded, shook their heads and gasped in all the right places but they listened very intently. I then realised that I didn't need a psychiatrist to release tension. Ron and Hermione were there all along.

"I'm glad you were able to open up to us," said Ron. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to find Malfoy."

"Why?" Hermione asked him.

"I'm going to bash the crap out of him."

"Ron, don't!"

It wasn't Hermione that said this, it was me. "Don't touch him, Ron," I warned him. "We've all had our fair share of fights. You can't wash away blood with more blood[1]. Please, don't."


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This is the second last chapter
Next Chapter: Letting Go

[1] The Hogwarts Memoir Book