Ginny Weasley was busy cleaning out the attic at the Burrow (the ghoul having been transported elsewhere), when she came across all of her old notebooks from Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most had "Ginevra Potter" and such written inside instead of lessons, which brought back a swarm of memories of long, boring History of Magic classes.
She clutched the book to her chest, taking in the smell of age and, of course, Hogwarts.
"Hey, Mum!" She called down the stairs, until she realized that her mother was in the kitchen, and could not possibly have heard her.
"What do you want, Ginny!" Ron shouted angrily from within his old room.
"Never mind, Ron!" Ginny yelled irritably and rolled her eyes, although her brother could not see her doing so.
Instead of Apparating downstairs, she ran down all of the flights of stairs delightedly, enjoying the sheer childishness. Just the thought of running brought back memories from childhood... with her robes billowing behind her, and her hair sloppily plastered against her freckled forehead.
As she reached the bottom of the stairwell, Ginny stumbled and tripped on the small, raised platform that marked the doorway into the Weasley kitchen. Flailing her arms wildly did not help, and inevitably fell flat on her face.
"Ginny!" Both Harry and Mrs. Weasley gasped. Bill couldn't help sniggering, which ultimately led to a crazed bout of laughter that involved rolling on the floor and struggling for breath. Harry rushed over to help her up, and Ginny's shoulders were soon heaving up and down. At first, he took her to be crying, for tears were streaming down her face. Mrs. Weasley was beside herself with worry.
"Are you okay?" Harry inquired, intensely concerned.
"That-was-the-most-fun-I've-had-in-a-long-time!" Ginny managed to blurt out, having just conquered a laughing attack to rival Bill's. As she caught her breath, she continued, "It makes me feel young again!"
She then plopped down at the large dinner table, sitting right across from her relieved mother.
"What's that, Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley pointed at the notebook Ginny had brought from the attic.
"Oh, it's one of my old notebooks from Hogwarts. I was actually coming downstairs to show it to you... I suppose I kind of forgot about that step..." Bill coughed loudly, masking another snigger. Mrs. Weasley shot him a look, and at once he acquired his innocent face. Ginny handed the book to her, and observed how much it lit up her old and weathered face. Pushing a tendril of grey hair out of her vibrant hazel eyes, Mrs. Weasley gently leafed through her daughter's memories, genuinely beaming. She smiled, the wrinkles framing her fragile lips pressing together, as she remembered how much younger they had all been when the notebook was written in. She glanced at her beautiful daughter, tears filling her sparkling eyes, and wrapped her up in a snug embrace.
"I think it was from my 2nd or 3rd year there!" Ginny cried once her mother had let go.
"May I see? I would love a few memories of something other than yesterday's breakfast." Ginny eyed Harry a bit uncomfortably, but then shrugged and surrendered the notebook. As he paged through it unhurriedly, his eyes widened and he began to chuckle.
"Did you really like me this much?" He asked playfully, and pointed to a page that had nothing on it but "Mrs. Harry Potter," and "Ginevra Anne Potter." Ginny turned a deep shade of red and laughed heartily.
"If I remember correctly, she couldn't be in the same room with you without turning into a tomato!" Mrs. Weasley cut in, grinning widely.
"Exactly the same shade as her hair, too!" Bill contributed amiably.
"Speaking of hair, Bill, I'm so glad you got a haircut." Mrs. Weasley changed the subject.
"Well, what kind of example would I be setting for my children?" He winked charmingly and unleashed his perfect smile. As conversation turned to Bill's lovely children, Ginny was once more transported to Hogwarts. Breathing in the scents from her notebook, she was there, reliving their adventures and remembering the heartbreak she experienced every time Harry stared longingly at Cho. She sighed heavily, wishing she could return to those days, filled with mystery and whirling emotions. Unexpectedly, there was a hand on her shoulder, and Harry was staring down at her with those gorgeous green eyes of his.
"I miss it too." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Makes me want to be a kid again."
"Come to the attic with me!" Ginny didn't wait for a reply. Grabbing Harry's bony wrist, she literally pulled him up every flight of stairs, practically flying. At last, they reached the aged, battered attic door. As Ginny slowly creaked it open, Harry was awed by the pure amount of stuff the Weasleys had piled inside. Late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the window, reflecting off the dust that had collected on the boxes and crates that were scattered about. Harry was captivated by all of the things that were actually his... Picking up his oldest broom, the Nimbus 2000, he rubbed his fingers over the numerous cracks and stains in the wood, again reminded of how old they had all become.
"Are you gonna help me or what?" Ginny asked impatiently, pulling him out of the pit he was mentally wallowing in.
"Yeah, of course! Sorry." She giggled and started to plod through the endless mounds of papers. She finally reached a few of the crates containing their childhood belongings (Harry and Hermione had nowhere else to put their own things, so they contributed to the Weasley's mess) and handed one to Harry. Instead of actually cleaning the attic, Harry helped her take the boxes down to Ron's room.
"Knock, Knock!" He shouted through the door, once they had set all of the boxes in the hallway.
"Coming!" Hermione yelled back, giggling. A few seconds later, the door clicked open and Hermione greeted them, quickly buttoning up her shirt. Leaving them to drag the crates along themselves, she retreated to the bed. She and Ron began to kiss and tickle each other playfully.
"Now, now, not in front of Ginny!" Harry exclaimed sarcastically, while setting the last of the boxes on the ancient wooden floor.
"Ha ha, very funny," Ginny rolled her eyes and plopped down next to the crates. Hermione pushed Ron away and sat up.
"What's in those?" She asked curiously.
"Hey!" Ron whispered, and began tickling her again. She laughed, but pushed his hands away again.
"Ron, stop it!"
"ANYWAYS, it's all this old stuff from Hogwarts..." Hermione grabbed Ron's lanky arms and pulled him over to the cardboard boxes, kneeling over them eagerly. They started to sort it all into piles, 'oo'ing and 'aah'ing occasionally, when Ron found something of interest.
"Hermione KRUM?" He blurted, surprised.
"Oh... 4th year... definitely."
"I remember that!" Harry exclaimed.
"Oh, I don't know how I could've gone out with him," Hermione whined unhappily. Ginny laughed, remembering how completely ugly Viktor Krum had been. "But, at least I don't have it written all over instead of my lessons!"
"Oh, so I missed a few History classes."
"Thank God it wasn't Potions! Snape would've obliterated you!" Ron said seriously.
"Ron! You're such a prat sometimes!" Hermione said, smacking him on the arm.
"Ow." She rolled her eyes and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"So, how are you coming along?" Ginny asked, breaking the silence.
"Oh... well, it's going to be a long nine months..." She replied, rubbing her stomach affectionately. Ron crawled up behind her and put his arms around her neck, happily peering over her shoulder at all of the things from his childhood.
"Are you going to send it to Hogwarts?" Harry wondered.
"Of course! However, don't call it an it... The muggle doctor we've been seeing performed an ultrasound. Even though I'm not showing yet, we know its going to be a boy."
"Any names picked out?"
"Robbie..." Ron whispered softly, and nuzzled his fiancée's cheek.
"Bet you can't wait until the big day..." Ginny ventured.
"Hermione Weasley." At the sound of her voice, Hermione's face lit up elatedly. "Oh, that's right... Ron and I wanted to talk to you two about something..." She grabbed Ron's hand for reassurance, and then continued in a casual manner.
"Ginny... would you like to be Robbie's godmother, and the maid of honor in our wedding?"
"Oh. My. God..." Ginny squealed, hardly believing her ears. "Thank you soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much!" She was ecstatic, almost knocking the wind out of Hermione with her solid hug.
"Easy does it, Ginny." Hermione said. She acted in an offhand manner, but Ginny could see she was positively beaming. "Harry's already agreed to be godfather!" Hermione continued, trying not to burst into happy tears. "I'm sorry...I'm just so excited!" She let out a small squeal, and Ron began to rub her back soothingly. He hadn't said anything for a while, but Harry could tell that his friend was also about ready to explode from excitement.
"I'm so happy for you guys!" Harry said, smiling genuinely. "Umm... I'm just curious. Who did you get to be the best man?" For a few moments, Ron sat stolidly and stared at Harry, taken aback.
"Harry, you didn't think I'd get someone else to be best man, did you? You've been my best friend for 17 years!" Ron cried.
"Well... you didn't say anything..." Harry replied, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I thought you would know!" Ron exclaimed, grinning.
During their conversation, Ginny had been busily sorting through crates and thinking about how much fun the wedding was going to be. As she was placing some textbooks back in one of the boxes, a small, folded up piece of paper slipped out of "Hogwarts, A History" and fell to the floor. She picked it up, ignoring the others' conversation. On the cover, "To Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and any assorted Weasleys" was written in formal script. She slowly unfolded it, being careful not to tear the aged yellow paper any more than it already was. It read:
Dearest Hogwarts' graduate of 1997, how nice it is to "speak" to you again. I'll bet you did not know that I owned an invisibility cloak, did you? Anyhow, this letter is somewhat of a warning. I just wanted to let you know that
Yours,
Ginny squinted down at the letter, confused. It seemed to just end in the middle of the body... and who was it from?
"Er... Ginny?" Hermione said. "You haven't said anything for awhile."
"Look." All four peered down at the torn, crumbling paper.
"It's probably some stupid prank," Harry said dismissively.
"Probably that bastard Malfoy..." Ron muttered, earning a dirty look from Hermione. After a few more moments of discussion, they shrugged it off, returning to their memories once more.
Soon they drifted off to sleep. Whereas Hermione and her future husband were curled up in Ron's ancient Chudley Canons themed bed, Harry and Ginny slept fitfully on the cold, wooden floor.
At about three o'clock in the morning, Harry sat up, sweating. He quickly realized that five or more heavy comforters were piled on top of him, and pushed them off. Realizing how warm it had become in Ron's stuffy little room, he badly needed a drink of water. He stood up quietly, trying not to walk on one of the creaky floorboards, and carefully stepped over Ginny.
Ambling into the shiny, excruciatingly white room, he turned on the cold water. Letting it flow into his cupped hands, he splashed it into his face, and then pressed the handle back into its original position. Harry placed his hands on the edge of the sink, and stared into the large, ornate mirror. He studied the faded scar above his eyebrow in the bright white light that enveloped his senses so completely. It reminded him again of that final battle between Voldemort and him...
In a matter of seconds, an ominous presence descended upon the Weasley household. Harry felt it deep down, his stomach turning over and scar buzzing electrically. He was wishing direly that he was gripping his wand, as he always had as a boy in Hogwarts. Deciding to retreat to the bedroom, just to be safe, he had almost mustered up enough courage to dash across the hall. You'll be okay... Just one leap... he told himself over and over, but still couldn't do it. It's now or never... Suddenly, the burning intensified and his stomach tied itself in knots. His breath turned shallow, beads of sweat trickling down his arms, and he knew that he had lost his chance.
Fear gripping his heart, Harry quickly glanced at the section of mirror reflecting the doorway. A hooded, dark figure was hidden in shadow, just escaping the white glow of the bathroom. Its head was slumped forward, arms falling limp by its sides. He slowly turned to face the demonic figure, hoping against hope that this was just a figment of his tired mind. His heart thumping wildly, Harry thought of his friends sleeping blissfully in the quiet room across the hall.
In a sudden movement, the figure snapped its head up and bore into Harry's soul with bloody, punctured eyes. Its hand flew up, pointing accusingly at him, and it began to advance. It didn't walk; it floated, bare, worn feet barely grazing the tiled floor. Harry receded into a panicked craze, backing up against the glass shower doors. As the shrouded, bloody creature came closer and closer, Harry's mind slowly shut down. The ceiling swirled faster and faster as the lights began to dim. Darker... darker... darker... darker...darker... and soon Harry collapsed, fading into complete obscurity...
The room was sparkling in the morning sun, bright and still full of radiant dreams. Ginny slowly blinked open her eyes, taking in all of the world's small beauties that had filled the room overnight. Stretching her arms and yawning, she sat up, seeing, but not comprehending, the dreams gradually vanish. She smiled hazily, and made her way to the door. Briefly wondering where Harry had gone, she Apparated downstairs for a nice, traditional, Weasley breakfast.
"Ginny!" Her harried mother greeted her, already enchanting multiple dishes to begin cleaning themselves. Still in a bit of a morning mist, Ginny simply nodded her head and sat down at the long dinner table between Bill and Charlie. She hesitated a moment before digging in, thinking it might be un-ladylike. Then she recalled that Virginia Weasley had never been accused of being ladylike in the first place.
"Whoa! I never thought you had it in you!" Charlie said, awestruck at Ginny's eating habits.
"Maybe you really ARE a Weasley!" Bill added approvingly. She merely grunted and continued to shove all of the scrumptious food into her mouth as fast as humanly possible.
While eating, she was vaguely aware of her brothers still staring at her, but she was too tired to care.
Once she had finished her fair share of food, more than enough by her mother's standards, she wandered over to the sink. Quickly pecking her mum on the cheek and thanking her for the wonderful breakfast, Ginny apparated up to her own room. It had been deserted since she was 19 years old, so it was a complete dump. She had more fun staying in Ron's room with the other three anyways, even if it did make her back hurt like hell.
Staring at the mess her room had become, she felt increasingly sad, wondering where the charm it used to possess had gone. The faded yellow paint, which had once been so vibrant, was peeling and chipped. Light was flowing forlornly through the window, broken into fragments by the many cracks that had spread through the dusty glass. Even the belongings she had dumped inside earlier that week had been absorbed into the lonely aura that was radiating from the walls. The bed was made, had been for years, which only added to the neglected feel of the room.
She drifted over to the empty closet and placed her hand softly on the splintered wooden doors, but she tore her hand away immediately. Her hand was still tingling, and she stared at the door uncomfortably. Quickly moving away, she rubbed her arms vigorously to get rid of the cold, sinking feeling that had surrounded her. She decided to forget about feeling worthless for the time being, and hurriedly pulled on a blue tank dress and straw sun hat. Apparating out to the garden, she approached Charlie, who was busying himself with ridding the yard of gnomes.
"Have you seen Harry lately?" She asked, still a bit shaken by the creepy feeling she had gotten in her room.
"I see you're awake now!" He remarked, and then laughed as if he had just seen someone shoot milk out of their nose. "Anyways, no. Sorry!" With that, he returned to de-gnoming the Weasley garden.
Instead of continuing her search for Harry, Ginny helped her brother get rid of a particularly difficult gnome. She then forgot all about the strange experience in her room, and proceeded to sunbathe on the front lawn.
After an hour or two of sunbathing, Ginny awoke from her deep slumber to find a horde of wild gnomes running about. Muttering the only incantation she remembered that didn't have to do with healing, a flash of light exploded from the sky. Closing her eyes quickly, Ginny waited until she couldn't hear the gnomes' laughter anymore. Once this occurred, she opened her eyes again and saw that her spell had indeed succeeded. The gnomes were frozen in place, glancing around fearfully. She swiftly plucked them up off of the ground, and chucked them over the wooden fence behind the house.
Raising her hands in victory, she paraded through the front door. While she expected at least someone to be waiting for her in the living room, she found no one. However, she did spy a piece of notebook paper taped to the mantle.
Dear Weasleys,
I'm sorry if any of you are worried about me. I was called upon for some urgent ministry business. I should be back soon, but one never knows.
Yours Truly,
Harry potter
The handwriting didn't look quite like Harry's, but then again, she hadn't really studied his lately. After all, people change, why shouldn't their handwriting? She wondered why it was worded so formally... Well, Aurors need to be formal sometimes. She reminded herself again.With that, she went back to Ron's room for another fun-filled day with Hermione.
Hermione Granger loved gossiping as the next person, but even she couldn't hold up for 3 ½ hours straight. Stretching exhaustedly, she stood up.
"Oy, do you Weasleys have any board games? I'd quite fancy a game of Candyland," She asked Ginny, as they had exhausted all topics of conversation.
"Check the attic; I'm pretty sure I saw some earlier."
"All right, I'll be right back." Hermione plodded over to the door and tirelessly climbed the flights of stairs leading to the attic. Upon reaching the door, she carefully nudged it open and surveyed the mess hidden behind it.
She couldn't conceive how anyone could deal with such a mess being in their own house! However, she was a woman on a mission, and promised herself that she would organize the attic later. Shaking her head vigorously to rid herself of this temptation, she plodded through the mess of papers to the overflowing shelves. Sorting through piles and piles of boxes and belongings, she found everything from old spell books to a bunch of letters addressed to Gilderoy Lockhart that Mrs. Weasley had never sent. What she didn't find was anything of entertainment value; not so much as a set of gobstones or wizards chess, let alone muggle board games. After disentangling herself from three lengths of rope that were hiding amongst the papers, she trudged disappointedly back to Ron's room.
"No luck?" Ginny remarked as Hermione slowly stepped into the room. She shook her head and crossed her legs as she sat down next to Ron.
"Oh, you know what? I think we put all that stuff in Ginny's room after she moved out." Ron exclaimed suddenly, eyes squinted from all of the mental exertion.
"So you're making me get up again?" She stared a Ron incredulously. He smiled broadly and nodded.
"Well, we could always go to sleep. I mean, it's already 6:18 pm!" Ginny said, faking a yawn, while Hermione rolled her eyes.
"All right... I'm getting up..." Hermione staggered to her feet, and then hobbled overdramatically to the open door. With one last glance at the pair of laughing Weasleys, she disappeared into the hallway. Making sure they couldn't see her, she apparated down to Ginny's room instead of taking the stairs; she tired quite easily, and climbing up and down the steps to the attic was enough for one day.
After appearing in the room, she warily eyed the closet's decaying, splintered wood. Muttering a charm, she slipped her wand out of the back pocket of her jean shorts and pointed it at the eerie doors. In seconds, the doors were painted a charming shade of purple and looked like they had when the Weasleys had first bought the Burrow. Deciding the rest of the room needed a sort of pick-me-up as well, she satisfied her craving for organization by magic-ing up Ginny's old room. The glass was wiped clean and no longer cracked, the walls were stripped of their depressing wallpaper and painted a painful but somewhat pleasant white. The dresser was given a new layer of paint like the closet, and the floor that it sat on was polished and shiny.
Smiling at her wonderful job, Hermione placed her wand, which she made a point to carry at all times, back into her jeans pocket and plopped down on the now-plushy bed.
Wow... Ginny and I may have to sleep in here one night! She thought. The bed was much more comfortable than Ron's was... and the room much more hospitable. Happily jumping to her feet, she danced joyfully over to the closet once more and flung open the lovely lavender doors. Indeed, her dear Ronald was correct, a great amount of both Magical and Muggle games were piled on the top shelf of the beautified space. Trying repeatedly to reach it, standing on the very tips of her now-sore toes, Hermione soon realized that she was just too short.
Summoning the blue footstool from the bathroom, she stepped up to the shelf and grabbed Candyland, Chutes and Ladders, and a Wizarding Chess board. Throwing them on top of the bed, she jumped off the footstool and made to close the closet doors, when she noticed a wet sensation near her right ankle.
Stooping down, she gasped to see a wide ribbon of blood trickling down into her white socks, coloring them a gruesome pink. It had taken her by surprise, but she resolved that she must have cut herself while straining to grasp the games. Pushing it out of her mind, and charming the cut so it would stop bleeding for the time being, she quickly went to shut the doors and apparate back to Ronald's room.
However, she was soon quite confused, because they wouldn't shut. There was a dull, thumping noise each time the door was about three inches from the frame, which she found a bit peculiar. Itching to make it normal again, she remembered what Ron had said that time when he had unwittingly mixed veritaserum and thouspien. 'Hermione, you're such a perfectionist-I wish you would lighten up once in awhile! Everything has limitations, flaws. You can't make everything faultless.' (The finished potion had made him tell everyone what he thought was his or her major flaws-Harry and Hermione had had to bring him to the hospital wing.) She chuckled bitterly; who knew Ron even understood such large words at sixteen? Nonetheless, remembering this prevented her from trying to fix the door any longer. Exhibiting relentless self control, she snatched the games off the bed and plodded over to the door, with only one last scornful glance at the broken closet door.
"Oh my god! What happened!" Ginny cried when Hermione appeared back in the room. Ron's brain suddenly snapped into place, and he rushed over, worriedly asking her what happened.
"I don't know, I guess I scraped my knee or something when I was trying to reach those games." She shrugged and motioned to the three games sitting on the bed in the corner. Still worried, Ginny quickly leaped across the hallway to grab a wet paper towel. When she came back all of two minutes later, Ron dabbed the dried blood away carefully. To their surprise, there was no cut, no scrape, no bug bite, even, that all of the blood could have come from. The only blemish on Hermione's leg was a small, elliptically shaped birthmark to the right of her knee.
"Maybe when you stopped it from bleeding, it closed the wound!" Ron exclaimed hopefully.
"No. I don't think so. That's an entirely different charm, which I would've used, but you can only use it if your injury is much bigger. I'm not really sure."
"Is there even anything in my closet that you could cut yourself on? Besides the rotting wood, I mean."
"No, it was empty. By the way, I-er-fixed up your room up a bit. No more rotting wood." Hermione smiled despite her confusion. "But-I'm not sure if this has anything to do with anything-the door wouldn't close. It sounded like something was stuck between the door and the wall, but, like I said, your closet was empty."
Ron had plunged deep into thought, and if you've never seen him deep in thought, it's quite an alarming experience. While he and Ginny wore almost identical-although Ginny looked intellectual instead of frightening- facial expressions, things kicked into high-gear in Hermione's mind. She went through every possibility again and again, until she came to a stunning conclusion.
"Well, I suppose we should just go check it out." This was met by worried stares from both Weasleys, for different reasons.
"Are... you sure we should go in there? What if it's dangerous?" Ron said nervously.
"Hermione, you're pregnant! You probably shouldn't poke around where it might be hazardous to your health." Ginny was biting her lip excessively; it began to bleed after a few minutes.
"All right... maybe Ginny should go. I need company if I'm going to stay here, and I don't think Ron could handle it if there is something there." Ron was acting defiant, but both women could tell that he was inwardly relieved.
Ron was surprised that he was still conscious. Believing your only sister to be dead was not a very happy experience. He took a deep breath in attempt to steady his ragged breathing and rushed to her aid, propping her up with pillows from her bed.
When a shriek, Ron knew Hermione had arrived and seen the situation. Hermione was almost as worried as Ron was about Ginny; after deciding that the pillows weren't enough, they carried her up to the bed so she wouldn't have to lie on the cold, hard floor.
"Hermione," Ron called frantically from Ginny's side. "Look around the room; something in here made her faint."
Hermione nodded, and, biting back her tears, began scouring every inch of the room. Just as Ron was about done supporting Ginny on her bed, a small piece of cloth caught Hermione's eye by the closet.
She limped as quickly as she could manage over to the closet doors. Carefully picking up the slip of cloth, she pulled on it gently, wracking her brain for an identification of the foreign object. As she pulled harder and harder, more and more of the material appeared. Hermione held up the cloth, examining it. It was a dark, black cloak, much too big for Ginny.
"Ron, is this yours?" Hermione murmured slowly. Ron glanced over and scanned the article of clothing.
"No," he responded, uncomprehending, turning his attention back to Ginny. Hermione, confused, dropped the cloak at a heap at her feet. Glancing at her hands quickly, she gasped. They were covered in blood! Tears trickled in shock and disbelief, her mind not comprehending all of the terrible events happen
"Ron," Hermione sobbed. "Look at my hands!"
Ron whirled around to stare at her, his eyes widened in horror. "Hermione, what did you DO?" he cried, his voice tainted with sheer terror, and promptly left Ginny's side to rush over to his fiancé, taking her hands in his and attempting to find a wound. He found none.
Hermione, quickly realizing what this meant, flung open the closet doors.
She audibly gasped, eyes tearing up in shock. Blood was flowering out in a dark puddle, and, suddenly, things went blurry. Blindly groping around the closet, her arms hit something solid, and she grabbed someone's shoulders and pulled the person to her chest, tears silently running down her pale face. Rocking back and forth, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes.
"Ron! Get Ginny off of the bed!" She cried, abruptly snapping back to her normal way of thinking. What was I doing? She mentally scolded herself for letting her emotions take over and hurriedly began to rush about. Upon laying eyes on Harry, Ron's eyes widened in shock and he began to tremble almost uncontrollably. As he lifted Ginny's limp body off the bed and placed her shaky form on the pillows that lined the floor, Hermione muttered the same charm that she had performed on her leg just a few minutes earlier, aiming it at Harry this time.
He was a mess of blood; she couldn't even tell where it was all coming from. The most obvious place was his forehead… whatever had happened, someone had screwed Harry up very well. In the place of his scar was… a bloody hole. You could see the pinkish white of his skull through the blood if you looked very hard, which was very disquieting.
"I thought Ginny said he left a note…" Ron whispered shakily, shivering and patting Hermione on the back. She was crying silently into his shoulder while Harry was lying on Ginny's bed, barely conscious.
"Help…" Harry rasped, suffocating on his own blood that was gushing down his throat. He writhed in pain on the bed, grimacing through the blood, pus, and tears that were oozing across his face.