Chapter Seventeen

"MIKEY!"

Daphne wanted to go to him. She knew he was hurt and she didn't know how bad... But the resulting flash from his collision with the wall still had her blinded. Her eyes were just adjusting.

The first thing she saw was that the wall was full of holes, but that they were filling in, almost like some sort of gelatin. Michael was lying half on one side, half on the other. Most notably, his eyes were wide open, and she was certain he was dead. It was about then that she almost did the stupidest thing she'd ever done, and tried to dive through the wall to get to him.

Cho grabbed her around the neck, though only just, pulling her back into the battle which, even though it had been temporarily suspended, was now back in full swing. One woman in the middle of the room was screaming the Cruciatus Curse at anyone she could reach, and Daphne, as much as she felt in a stupor, just barely dodged a jet of violet-black light.

"Mikey..." She whispered, turning back toward the wall. Cho was gone, she could get to him now... Pull him back, help him live again. Because it wasn't possible that he was dead. She was just wrapping her hands around his ankles when she noticed the female Death Eater standing over her. The hood was gone, and what might have once been a pretty face was full of terror and rage. This was it... Daphne knew that she was about to die.

It felt like there was a sickening drop in the room and Daphne was sure she'd just felt death, but she was still there. Still living. The red wall died completely, and she could only describe the feeling she experienced next as some kind of vortex. Everything spun for a moment, or seemed to, and then locked into place.

The Death Eaters, trained to respond instantly after such a confusing state, began shouting the Killing Curse from all over the room.

Nothing happened.

It was only a moment later when a Death Eater, hoodless now, came crashing through the door, holding his head. "He's dead! He's dead!" he was screaming frantically, ripping at his hair. The dark haired woman ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Potter? Potter's dead, yes?"

"No," the man moaned and fell to his knees.

The woman shrieked as well, grabbing fistfuls of her own hair as she began to keen. It was so... Daphne didn't exactly know what to make of this scene except most of the Death Eaters were making for the lifts in a vain attempt to escape apprehension. Kingsley, McGonagall, and Weasley were already at work trying to incapacitate those they could. They were soon joined by others coming from the cross-roads and beyond. The room was getting rather crowded, actually.

Daphne managed to shove through the crowd towards the wall. She soon found Cho following closely after her, though what the aspiring mediwitch could do now without magic (or what she could even have done with magic) was beyond Daphne. The two put shaking hands down on the fallen young man's legs and began to try and drag him back into the room. There was something sickeningly limp about the way his body slid through the rubble towards them.

So many people, and they were lost here in this little section of the room, just the three of them. Daphne wanted to do something. She wanted Cho to do something because Cho was supposed to be able to fix everything because she was a Mediwitch and that's just how it was but there was no magic anymore so there wasn't anything anyone could...

He was staring blankly, eyes open, looking upward and at no one. Because he was dead.

And for some reason, this really made Daphne mad, because he owed her something. Balling her hands into fists, she beat on his chest, and despite Cho's best efforts to stop her, she wouldn't be drawn away. Each time she brought her hand down, she spoke one word.

"You... Were... Gonna... Get... Me... An... Umbrella...!"

On the last word, Michael's body jerked on its own accord. He seemed to be trying to breathe, though it wasn't working. Daphne and Cho looked at each other -- He wasn't dead!

"There's something I can do," Cho said. "It's a Muggle thing. We--"

Daphne waved her hand. "Do it."

Cho straightened Michael out as much as she could, tilting his head back, she pinched his nose and taught Daphne how Muggles resuscitate people who aren't breathing.

"What are you--" She began as Cho started pumping down on his chest. She repeated the process, urging Daphne to trust her between breaths.

Somehow she didn't feel even a flicker of jealousy as Cho's mouth covered Michael's and the small woman forced breath back into his lungs. It seemed to take a long time. People were still milling around excitedly around them, not really paying attention to their own miniature drama, or if they were, Daphne wasn't paying attention to them. She didn't really understand what Cho was doing, or why it was taking so long. Maybe because it had been a few minutes before they even tried this.

She realised she had taken his hand, which was oddly cold, and was breathing on it softly as she watched. Cho continued working, silently, calmly, steadily. She would have been a really great mediwitch. Daphne didn't even notice at first when his eyelids finally fell closed over those penetrating near black eyes--even more piercing when glazed and vacant--and he took his first pained breath on his own. Cho sat back on her haunches and chuckled softly to herself, and his hand twitched in her fingers. It was then that Daphne realised he was alive, and that everything was all right. Cho began to try to roll him on his side, and though she didn't understand the point of the gesture, Daphne quickly moved to help.

"Feckin' hell, Chang! How'd you do that?" suddenly came from behind them. "Terry, did you see that? It was bleedin' brilliant!"

Daphne turned around to look at Seamus just in time for Terry to give him a good hard swat upside the head. Seamus winced, stepping off to the side, and Terry crouched down next to Michael.

"There's ambulances upstairs. We should probably get Michael--"

"No," Cho interrupted. Daphne neither knew what an ambulance was or how one could help Michael, but she thought that if Terry believed it to be a good idea, they shouldn't waste any time. She was about to ask Cho about that, but the other girl continued. "No, they should come down here. I don't know how else he's injured, but he shouldn't be moved except by someone that... Knows how. And I really don't."

"Then get them down here!" Daphne exclaimed, looking back up to Seamus. For once, the former Gryffindor didn't argue with her and ran off to find the stairway up. For the first time, Daphne noticed that there were other people on the floor. Other bodies and other injured... She couldn't tell which was which. A shock of blonde hair near the place where they'd apparated looked like Luna. Neville was leaning heavily against a pillar. She could see Draco and Hermione on either side of Ron, helping the red-haired boy walk, returning from wherever it was they'd been. There was no sign of Harry Potter or Clare or any of the others yet. Hopefully they were okay.

A few minutes later, the people in white coats arrived carrying what looked to be cots without legs. Seamus had one of the men by the sleeve and was drawing him and his partner over to the place where Michael was. Daphne found herself, Cho, and Terry shoved out of the way as the men put Michael on the cot and carried him off.

Unsure how long she stared after them, she almost didn't feel the tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, Clare was there, eyes wide, almost like Pansy's had been at the house on Grimmauld Place.

Daphne said nothing. For once, whether the tall Slytherin liked it or not, Daphne knew best: she hugged her. Clare sighed softly and leaned heavily on Daphne, and somehow--after all that--Daphne found herself leaning back equally. Neither said anything for a long time. That is, until a rather loud roar of excitement filled the room. The two pulled away and turned toward the door.

Harry Potter, his legs dragging more than actually walking (though he did seem to be trying to do so), emerged between Remus Lupin and Ginny Weasley. His glasses were gone. There was blood streaking down his face and arms and grime everywhere the blood was not, but he was very much so alive.

The room quickly turned silent, all faces eagerly turning to the Boy Who Lived for some news of what had happened down in the bowels of the Ministry. He stared blankly at the crowd for a moment, smiling quietly to himself, and then he said two words.

"It's over."

That messy, scarred head dropped then, falling to his chest, and Ginny gasped sharply, crying out his name. Lupin quickly waved towards the next cot coming down the stairs (an area previously not noted by Daphne, though she thought she ought to have been paying more attention to it. It was just hard to do so in the midst of the battle!). The men in white put Harry on it and fled back from whence they came. Ginny chased after them.

The room was actually starting to clear--most of the Death Eaters being rounded up and taken to god-knows-where (not that Daphne really cared at the moment), and the wounded being quickly evacuated from the room. It took her a moment to realise that Seamus and Terry had already left, as well, probably going after Michael and Anthony and the others.

"Ever been in an ambulance?" Clare asked, looking down at Daphne, who shook her head. "It's terribly dull."

Daphne smirked and ran up the stairs, Clare fast behind her.

When they were outside, Daphne noted that the Muggles had managed to fit quite a few annoying boxes into the alleyway. They were all equipped with flashing red lights, and she couldn't look at them for long without feeling a little dizzy. She knew they were vehicles of some type since they had wheels and she'd seen cars before, but these were different. Clare tugged her from one to the other, asking questions as to who was on board. Finally, she pulled Daphne into one after arguing with the men that seemed to be fixing someone up in the hollow back of the car.

Lying on some sort of table was someone that Daphne instantly recognized. Or, more honestly, it did take her a moment, because half of the girl's face was mangled. Like Michael, Mackenzie wasn't breathing, and the medical hands - Daphne learned later that they were called paramedics - were trying to revive her.

The doors closed in the back of the ambulance, someone beat a couple times on it, and the siren - a noise Daphne hadn't ever heard before - started wailing. She and Clare were pushed to the back of the crowded little room, and there was the distinct feeling that neither of them really belonged there. Soon, they were moving, and despite the fact that Daphne wanted to know what had happened, she found herself quite ill and spent most of her time trying not to be sick.

Clare, she noticed, was clinging to the sleeve of her torn robe, trying not to look as if she were concerned with what was going on with Max. The stressed expression she wore, though, despite her best efforts, gave it away. Daphne didn't even know that Clare knew the girl.

One of the paramedics tapped on the window and spoke with the driver, and the siren suddenly stopped.

As the vehicle stopped, a loud, monotonous beep began to sound through the box, and Daphne stared at Clare, wildly clutching the taller girl's sleeve. Why was everything wailing and beeping and making these noises! She wanted to know what was happening, because this was all completely foreign to her, but Clare was just staring ahead blankly, and she was finding herself too alarmed to string together a sentence. The man who had been putting those zap-sounding things against Mackenzie stopped and drew the sheet that was covering the lower half of her body up over her face.

"She saved me," Clare said softly. "She saved me." The taller girl continued to stare dazedly at the sheet that now covered the once gentle girl's face.

The paramedic who had pulled the sheet over Mackenzie's face turned to them, biting his lip. "I'm sorry, girls."

"What's... what's happening?" Daphne asked, turning from Clare to the man. Clare looked away, starting to sag heavily against Daphne.

"She died..." Clare said hoarsely. "She died to save me."

She was crying, just like Pansy had been. What was going on?

Dead? That's what that meant? Why would the... And the siren... After a moment of sitting there without moving, the ambulance started again, much slower now, toward the hospital.

Mackenzie couldn't be dead! Daphne reached into her pocket for her wand before remembering that... Magic was gone. Which came as another shock all together. The fact that the last spell she'd cast had been a rather nasty one she shouldn't have even known would stick in her memory for a long time.

But Max, the shy girl that never could raise a hand nor her voice against anyone, was dead. Clare was crying, and Daphne, still clueless as to what half of the things in this box-shaped car were, was also crying. One of the paramedics - whom Daphne noticed was wearing the robes of a mediwizard - stepped over to them, putting a hand on their shoulders. He didn't say anything, though, but she was glad he was there, because even as Clare and Daphne were comforting each other, the car seemed to feel completely cold and unwelcoming. It wasn't a place to grieve. It wasn't a place where they should be remembering with startling clarity everything they'd had to do to defeat Voldemort.

The worst part, ironically enough, was that there was no one left to blame. The Dark Lord was dead, his Death Eaters without magic. Daphne wanted to avenge the young Ravenclaw's death, but even though she felt she could now cast the Killing Curse a hundred times, it would never happen.

That face... That young face covered by the sheet... It wouldn't ever get any older.

When the ambulance stopped again, the wizard who was trying to comfort them said quietly, "There's a ward that's been set aside for you on the third floor. We'll need to check you out and make sure you're okay.

The man helped them both down from the back of the box and onto the sidewalk in front of the glass doors leading into the hospital. Daphne couldn't seem to move or think or do anything. Max was dead in the back of that box, and nothing was ever going to bring her back. It was... Well, she'd seen death, but this was Max! She'd seen her die, and it just didn't connect. Nothing was connecting. It just wasn't fair!

She wasn't sure how it was that she ended up in that waiting room. In retrospect, she decided she must have been pointed along as she led Clare through the hospital. Maybe a nurse had led them both. However it was, she did eventually end up in the waiting room sitting beside Clare. A nurse offered them both a box of Kleenex and bottles of water, which Daphne took gratefully. Her mouth hurt, chafing from the tears.

She probably would have continued to sit there in absolute shock if it hadn't been for the arrival of a very white Terry Boot and Seamus. Seamus looked excited, but Terry--the most stoic Ravenclaw of all--looked like he was going to cry. Seamus had both arms around him as they stumbled over, and the Irish boy managed to drop him down into a chair beside Daphne.

"Both of them," Terry kept muttering to himself, staring down at his clasped hands. Seamus grabbed a metal chair and pulled it up, taking both Terry's hands in his own. Somehow Daphne began to fear the worst.

"Both...? Both?" she said, starting to sound hysterical.

"Shh," Seamus said quietly. "Goldstein and Corner are both fine. Goldstein's already been fixed up good as ever. Corner's still in surgery, though. Whatever he did, he did it good! I reckon the doctors--" The Irish boy looked from Daphne to Terry (both of whom were glaring at him rather violently. "Er, sorry. We rode with Goldstein, but he's fine, so don't worry about him."

"Would you just tell me about Michael?" Daphne asked lowly, trying her best to not strangle Seamus.

"Chang went with him. They even let 'er in with him on account that she's trained as a healer. She talked with us a minute ago. Didn't understand a bleedin' thing she said, though."

Obviously, Terry was too numb to have even tried.

Seamus continued. "Sure an' she was talkin' fast about tonnes of things. Something about hemragin' and defilters and all sorts of nonsense you couldn't imagine. She reckons it'll take a bit o' time before he's fit to be out of the doctor's hands, but she thought he'd be all right," he said with a nod, obviously too oblivious to what had actually happened to really be able to worry--if he'd even worry about that prick Corner in the first place, Daphne thought wryly. "I reckon your one's lucky, he is. Sure an' it seemed like he was about to snuff it again... Er, maybe I should just go ask the nurse how he is," Seamus said, looking rather alarmed at the look he was getting now from his boyfriend and former rival.

However, it did seem that Terry had managed to throw off the catatonic mumbling. He sighed and shook his head as the Irish boy fled.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking at the two girls and their tear streaked faces.

Daphne looked at Clare, but the taller Slytherin just shook her head, placing it in her hand and closing her eyes. A couple more tears fell.

Turning to Terry, Daphne stared into his eyes for a while. All she could think about were all the things she probably wouldn't remember otherwise about Mackenzie. The journeys to Hagrid's hut to take care of the animals, the girl's smile, the conversations they'd had about whatever... They'd been close. Not quite as close as Daphne and Clare, but they'd been friends, and on a nick-name basis, which was an honor Daphne reserved for few people. Once in a while, she'd slipped up and called the Ravenclaw 'Max.'

Terry was waiting expectantly, certainly dreading what he was about to hear. If it could make Clare cry, it couldn't be good. If it could make Daphne, who almost always had an opinion about everything, speechless, it couldn't be good. Terry's eyes narrowed when the short girl in front of him allowed her shoulders to slump.

"Daphne, what happened?" he asked. "Please, tell me."

Clare sniffled.

"Max died, Terry. She died saving Clare."

Before he had a chance to walk away or turn from her or whatever else the emotionally-controlled Ravenclaw would normally do, she grabbed him around his shoulders and pulled him toward her. He didn't resist, and did, in fact, pretty much fall into her arms. He wailed. It almost reminded her of the sirens, and Daphne, having spent too long attempting to be quiet, did, too. A third pair of arms joined them - Clare. And a fourth - Seamus - who'd returned just in time for Daphne's announcement.

People had to die. They all knew it. They all knew going in that everything wouldn't be okay and that some people would have to make that sacrifice. But when it was someone so close, someone that all of them called a friend on some level, it stung worse that Daphne could have ever imagined. She almost wished that Magic had lasted just long enough for that woman to end her life. That would have been so much easier than dealing with the fact that her and Max would never visit the Augurey by Hagrid's cabin ever again.