Silver Lining
Reality Is Shattered
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"Would all Houses please return to their respective common rooms." The magically amplified voice of Minerva McGonagall echoed over the silent stands. No-one was talking, much less cheering for Gryffindor's win.
Harry was frozen in mid-air, still clutching the Snitch. From his vantage point, he could see all too clearly the state of his arch enemy. The Slytherin was lying dead still, and as Harry noticed this, the word 'dead' glowed in big, red letters inside his head. He's not dead. He's just unconscious. His hair was matted with sweat and, Harry noticed with a jolt, blood that trickled from a gash on Draco's forehead. The pink flush in the Slytherin's cheeks was fading, and, from the air, it looked horribly like Draco was, in fact, dead. His legs were twisted under him, one at a truly horrifying angle, and the other looking just as mangled. His broom had fallen beside him, and the rough twigs had scored a series of light grazes across the boy's pale cheeks and pointed chin. There was a large bruise blossoming on his jawline, already a violent shade of purple. Harry's subconscious registered a far-away feeling of horror, that he himself had done this. By accident, certainly, but it was his fault nonetheless.
Unable to resist, Harry turned his broom into a steep dive, landing about five feet away from Malfoy's prone body. He took a careful step, fearing to get too close lest the red glowing letters in his head be proved correct. Banishing that thought, he took another tentative step towards Malfoy, and another. From this distance, Harry could make out the faint, erratic rise and fall of Malfoy's chest. He was just about to bend down, to shake Malfoy awake, when a firm hand was laid on his shoulder.
"Potter, I think you ought to get back to your dormitory." Madam Hooch's voice said through a bit of a haze.
"I don't think so, Yolande." Madam Pomfrey's fussy voice said, sounding agitated. "Mr Potter took a blow too, if you recall." Professor Sinistra said, refreshing Madam Hooch's memory. She was kneeling beside Harry, a kindly look on her bespectacled face. "Come on, now, Potter. You'll be all right."
"Ah. Yes. Well, in that case, go straight to the hospital wing." Madam Hooch said, shooting the elderly nurse a sharp glance. Harry vaguely noted that Madam Pomfrey had called the flying instructor 'Yolande.'
He got up unsteadily, swaying a little. He leant on his Firebolt, and slowly made his way back to the castle. He could hear voices murmuring and talking all around him, but the only words he could make out were 'Draco', 'broken', and 'dead'.
"Harry!"
"R-Ron?" Harry said, his voice sounding thick and far away.
"Are you all right? Do you want us to take you to the hospital wing?" Ron asked, sounding horribly anxious, "Hermione's got your Firebolt." Harry hadn't even registered the broom being taken from his hands. He nodded, and then the world lurched horribly. He fell against Ron, who managed to hold him up.
"Come on, Ron. Let's get him upstairs." Hermione sounded as if she was underwater, and Harry dimly noticed two pairs of hands latching themselves onto his arms, and propelling him towards the castle.
It seemed only seconds had passed when he finally stood before the large doors that led into the hospital wing. His focus suddenly snapped back into place, and he turned to see Ron's anxious, freckled face, and Hermione's worried features.
"Do you want us to stay with you?" Ron asked, his hand on Harry's shoulder. His face was flushed from the game, and he was breathing rather heavily.
"Yeah." Harry muttered, his face ashen and his voice low and rasping, "I don't feel too good."
"Let's get you inside before Pomfrey guts us…" Ron said, looking around nervously. He knew full well what the nurse's reaction would be if they failed to get Harry sitting down immediately.
Ron and Hermione opened the doors and helped Harry inside. The dizzy Seeker slumped down on a bed, rumpling the impeccably neat pale yellow covers, and causing a dent in the perfectly fluffy white cushion. Harry stared down at the sterile, shiny tiles, and his own trainer-clad feet, and tried not to think about the match. He realised that, once again, he still held the Snitch clasped in his hand.
"Here…" He said weakly, thrusting the Snitch at Ron. "Keep it."
"Er…why?" Ron said confusedly.
"Dunno. Maybe you could name it, or something." Harry said vaguely, managing a feeble smile.
"Right." Ron said, his eyes showing that he clearly thought Harry completely mad.
A shadow fell over the small group. "A fitting name would be Godric, I think, Mr Weasley." Professor Dumbledore said, his mouth quirked into a smile. "However, I believe that now would be a prudent time for you to leave, as Madam Pomfrey will undoubtedly want to wreak some painful punishment upon us for disturbing her patients' peace."
Ron gawked openly, but a sharp nudge from Hermione prompted him to close his mouth. He hurriedly thrust the Snitch back at Harry, who pocketed it with a weak smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
"Of course, professor. We'll come and see you, Harry." Hermione said, shooting an anxious glance at said Harry. "That is, if we're allowed…" Ron nodded enthusiastically, and the two of them shuffled out. Harry heard muffled, concerned whispers, before they were out of sight.
That moment, a very angry looking Professor Severus S Snape swept into the hospital wing, clearly livid. His robes trailed behind him, and his narrowed black eyes were a stark contrast to his bloodless face.
"Albus, I…" He trailed off, catching sight of Harry. "Well, if it isn't the hero of the hour…" He spat menacingly.
"Severus." Dumbledore said warningly, and Snape collected himself. He opened his mouth to speak again, and then the doors burst open with a flurry of white and green.
"Out of my way! Out, out!" Madam Pomfrey cried, "I need quiet. Now!" Dumbledore appeared faintly intimidated, and after shooting Harry an enigmatic glance, he swept out with a nod to Madam Pomfrey. The infirmary nurse rapidly levitated an unconscious, yet breathing Draco onto a bed and whisked the curtains shut. Snape stalked over to a chair and threw himself down, evidently just within the limits of his temper. His knuckles were white as they gripped the chair. Harry tried not to look at his expression of fury, complete with dilated nostrils, clenched jaw, stark white face and eyes so dark they seemed pupil-less.
Eventually, Madam Pomfrey emerged from the makeshift cubicle, her face white and her lips pursed.
"Young master Malfoy has two nastily broken legs. I will be mending them in due time, Severus. It's nothing serious, though he'd be better off being careful for a week or two." Something in her eyes betrayed her calm speech; there was more to tell. "However…I'm afraid that he has taken a rather nasty knock to the general skull area…He may be paralysed."
Snape's face was a mask of pure rage. He got up and made as if to lunge forward, but collected himself in time. He was literally shaking with fury. Professor McGonagall had just arrived, her hat falling off her head. She took Snape's arm and forcefully sat him into a chair.
"Calm down, Severus." She hissed quietly, then turned to Harry with a tight smile on her lined face.
Harry's stomach felt as if it had dropped out. He felt horribly sick, and light-headed, and his heart was pounding fit to burst. He could feel all the blood draining from his face. As that happened, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he let himself fall back onto the bed in a faint.
Minerva McGonagall rushed to his side, and quickly propped him up against the fluffy pillows. Her face betrayed no trace of emotion, but her brows were furrowed.
"Potter! Can you hear me, Potter?" She said sharply, and Harry's eyes blinked open. There was a light silver mist in front of him, obscuring everything from sight, and his ears were filled with a roaring like the sea. Slowly, the mist cleared, and he looked up at his Head of House with an expression of detached horror on his face.
"I…I paralysed him?" He whispered, his voice barely audible. His green eyes were wide and fearful, like a deer caught in headlights.
"It was not your fault, Potter." Professor McGonagall said gently. "Lie back, now, and Madam Pomfrey will be with you soon."
Madam Pomfrey poked her head out of Malfoy's cubicle with a stern look on her face. "Minerva, Severus, I don't know how you expect me to be able to help your students with you two fussing around here all the time." She said pointedly. The two Professors took the hint, and left the infirmary.
Everything was silent, apart from Madam Pomfrey bustling around, tending to the wounded Malfoy. Harry lay silently in his bed, breathing slowly and trying to get his mind around the fact that had been thrust upon him.
He had paralysed Draco Malfoy.
He was just about to get up and go, when Madam Pomfrey grabbed his shoulder and practically threw him back onto the bed.
"Mr Potter! Where on earth do you think you are going?" She screeched at a polite volume, "You stay right there, young man, until I get you fixed!"
"Yes Madam Pomfrey." Harry replied dully, slumping down and fixing his eyes once more on his worn trainers. After around three and a half minutes of staring at the patch of dirt on his left trainer, Madam Pomfrey bustled back with a tray of obscure looking potions.
"Now, Potter! I want you to drink this Pain-killing Tonic, and this Dreamless Sleep potion. You must drink this one before the others, it's to help calm your mind." Madam Pomfrey said kindly, "Try to get to sleep, you'll feel better soon."
Harry gratefully took the potions, and soon drifted off into a blessed, dreamless sleep. The last thought on his mind before the blankness took over was, it's all my fault.
"Do you think he can hear us?"
"Ron, sshh! He's asleep!"
"Sorry…"
Harry rolled over, and opened his eyes blearily. He noted that someone had kindly taken off his glasses as he slept. He poked a hand out of the covers and felt clumsily around on the bedside table. After nearly crushing the delicate glasses, he slid them onto his nose and looked at Ron and Hermione with a grin blossoming on his face.
"Hi." He said, sitting up with a sigh.
"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione immediately gasped, swooping down on him and kissing his cheek. He reddened.
"Yeah, I'm fine…" He mumbled, his eyes flickering towards Malfoy's enclosed cubicle.
"Yeah, er…what happened to him?" Ron asked uncertainly, gesturing to the cubicle's general area.
"He broke both his legs, but Pomfrey's fixed them." Harry muttered, "But he could permanently paralysed."
Hermione let out a soft scream. Ron's face lost a little of its colour. The redhead, although Malfoy's archenemy, was still shocked by the news of Malfoy's unconfirmed state of health. Hermione was aghast.
"You paralysed Draco Malfoy?" She gasped, her hands over her mouth. "But…you only collided!"
"I knocked him off his broom. Falling thirty feet through the air can do these things." Harry said in a monotone.
"But how could you paralyse him?"
"Dunno. Brain damage, I suppose." Harry mumbled. "I don't want to talk about that right now."
"No, of course not." Hermione said, sitting down on the bed beside him. Ron did the same.
"I don't blame you, mate." Ron said hollowly, "If I'd just paralysed Malfoy, I'd want to keep it as quiet as I could."
"Yeah. He'll probably try to murder me, or something." Harry winced as pain lanced through his aching skull like lightning.
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. We should be letting you rest." Hermione fussed, her brows furrowed in concern.
"No, don't worry. I should be OK to go now." Harry said, trying to ignore the pain in his head.
"Weasley! Granger! Out, out!" Madam Pomfrey cried, "Potter will need to stay in for a while, just in case, and I don't need you two bothering him!"
Ron cracked a lopsided grin. "So much for visiting a casualty of war." He said quietly to Harry, "We'll see you tomorrow, mate."
"We'll visit soon, promise." Hermione said, smiling sadly.
"I'll let you know about Malfoy." Harry said under his breath, and from Ron's barely perceptible nod, he knew they had heard.
"Bye." Ron said, throwing a grumpy look at Madam Pomfrey.
"Bye." Harry replied, lying back on his pillows and drawing a deep breath.
He suddenly wished he had something to do. Anything to take his mind off…Harry shook his head violently. No. I musn't think about it. If I don't think about it, it didn't happen. He tried to think of something else, and the first thing that popped into his head was Snape. I hate Snape. Snape hates me. Snape's favourite student is Malfoy. Malfoy is paralysed..NO!
"No!" Harry growled. Denial was not the way to deal with things.
"What's the matter, Potter?" Madam Pomfrey said sharply, poking her head out from round the curtains. She bustled over and peered into Harry's eyes. "Hmm…There doesn't seem to be anything wrong. I don't think we'll be needing to keep you here for the rest of the day. Off you go!"
Harry got up gratefully, feeling the Snitch still wriggling in his pocket. He took it out, holding it between two fingers, grateful for a distraction.
It was rather sweet, really, for a ball of metal. The whirring noise of its rotating wings was quite like a little voice, and Harry grinned inanely. He remembered suggesting that Ron named it, and then Dumbledore's voice popped into his mind.
"Godric." Harry said quietly, looking intently at the golden Snitch. It seemed almost to whirr its approval.
Then the utter strangeness of the situation hit Harry, and he began to chuckle. Fancy naming a Snitch! He shook his head at himself, grinning at the small golden ball in his hand, and began climbing the unpredictable staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. He pocketed the little whirring Snitch and muttered the password, 'Remembrall', before ducking into the common room.
He was immediately greeted by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who clapped him on the back, laughing, and enquired after his general health. Then Ron and Hermione shot up from their seats in front of the fire, and began to fuss over him once again.
"Oh, Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione's eyes were wide. "I didn't think Madam Pomfrey would let you out so early…"
"Calm down, Hermione! Pomfrey knows what she's doing, Harry's fine. Aren't you?" Ron chuckled, shooting a grin at Harry.
"Never better." Harry smiled, glad to be back.
Hermione and Ron relaxed, and they led the way over to the trio's customary seats in front of the fire. In between Ron's chatter about the match, and various enquiries as to his well-being from various Gryffindors, Harry was almost beginning to feel as if the disastrous events of the day before were simply a dream, and that he hadn't really paralysed Malfoy. Just a dream.
"Oh yeah. You know Neville fell through that trick door yesterday?" Ron said to Harry, "Well, he was in the hospital wing."
"He heard Madam Pomfrey talking to Professor Snape." Hermione interjected.
Harry paled. He could hear his blood thumping in his temples. No. Just a dream.
"Well, he said he heard her telling Snape that Malfoy's definitely paralysed." Ron said in a hushed voice. "She can't tell if it's permanent yet, he needs to be awake…but from what Neville said, she didn't sound too hopeful."
"We thought we should tell you, because…you know." Hermione finished rather lamely. Harry's face must have darkened a bit, because she immediately backtracked, a fearful look on her face. "Oh, Harry, we don't blame you. It was his fault, rushing in front of you like that, and you know that no-one else will blame you either…"
Harry swallowed. He knew that the entirety of Slytherin house would be after his blood after this little incident, Malfoy himself included. Not to mention Snape…He forced a smile onto his face.
"I know. Thanks, guys."
A/N – Thanks for all the lovely reviews, guys! Made my day! Next chapter forthcoming…
