Disclaimer: See Chapter I
AN: All right, first things first:
1: One person asked that I give a few sources about MI5, I advise Spy-Catcher by Peter Wright (non-fiction), The Fourth Protocol by Frederick Forsyth, and their website which can be found by Google because the closest text reference to them I used was about twenty years out of date. I was fortunate since the time period I was using was close to the period in the few texts I had available.
2: In response to some criticism about some of the actions taken by characters in the fic, read carefully as I'm aiming for subtlety, not having to explain things in big print and flashcards.
3: Sorry for the delay and all I can promise is another long wait after this one as here is the game plan: I got back home after a tough semester, with a series of finals that ran me ragged. Read carefully, and you'll figure out the riddle. As I care greatly about quality as opposed to quantity, this next chapter will be a tie-in for the chapter after, as that one will be massive. End-state: a long wait between updates. Or, maybe I could break up the massive chapter into parts, as I really want to update this story and finish it. It's always the last couple hundred yards that are the hardest to finish…
Chapter XXXV: New Orders"Get the fucking catheter in his…"
Images, sights and sounds came into his mind. Harry wasn't sure if they were his images, or those that his mind up from stories Alex had told him. Above him were Jack and Ron, both staring down with fear in their eyes. Someone was clutching his hand, and yelling "Hang in there, Harry, hang the fuck in there!" The sight swam, and was replaced by two dirty characters, their faces streaked with cammy cream, one holding up a bag of Ringer's solution. Harry could feel something in his hands, and when his eyes looked down he saw rosary beads clutched in his hands. Alex's best mate Nicky had been Catholic, whilst Doc was Creole Catholic…Dream or sight? Harry didn't know, and really didn't care.
Vaguely he could feel the air rush past him, whispered snatches of conversation in his ears.
"Bloody hell he's…"
"Where the fuck is…"
"No time, the school is…"
Harry felt as though he were dropping, and soon could hear someone order, "PONCHO! GET ME A PONCHO!"
Somebody gently picked him up and set him down again. Harry felt himself lifted up, lying on some cloth that they were using as a stretcher. Gingerly, he forced open his eyes, and saw above him the outside of the school. Ron, Doc, Neville, and Fred (or was it George?) were holding on the corners of the cloth, moving him as fast as they could. The doors were open, and Harry heard Neville yell, "GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" A group of students appeared to the sides of their group as Harry could hear their booted steps echoing through the halls.
"Harry…"
The voice was that of Hermione, and Harry turned to see her with…Ginny. Harry couldn't make out much details of her, but still there was no denying who was next to Hermione. My red-haired angel, he thought, a smile creeping to his lips as he felt the darkness surround him.
"Hang in there, mate!" Ron, flapping big-time.
The sight faded, and Harry got to see an overhead view of Madame Pomfrey hard at work with wand and potion on something lying on a hospital bed. Behind her stood the Headmaster, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall. It took Harry a moment to realize that that was himself, all battered, bruised and bloody that was on that table. Harry soon lost sight of the vision as he drifted off into the darkness…
The next thing he saw had to be a nightmare…Dumbledore and McGonagall at the foot of his bed, in front of them Percy Weasley, Dolores Umbridge, Diggory the Elder, the blonde fuck from Slytherin (minus his two hulking morons), and…Fudge? With Kingsley Shacklebolt and someone he didn't recognize wearing the badge of the Auror's Division. Umbridge had that nauseating smile on her face, and was showing a piece of parchment towards the headmaster. Albus looked down at it, smiled, and talked. Strangely, Harry couldn't hear anything in this nightmare. Only watch as it seemed everyone else in the room started to get excited. The headmaster put a hand on the shoulder of McGonagall, his lips moving, and after a few moments she left, backing away from the group. Harry could see the Headmaster was acting calm, his face expressionless. It didn't look good as Percy's Dictation Quill was going wild recording everything that was being said. Fudge's cronies were also slowly drawing their wands. The Minister yelled something at Dumbledore, the Headmaster replied back, and everything went white to Harry.
Harry found himself back at that country roadside in Wales, where he had first seen combat, killed his first man. Those that he had killed were staring at him, their wounds gruesome, and smells that he had lodged in the back of his thoughts, smells he had largely forgotten as the undead didn't smell as bad once they had been killed as a human did, came back to hit him hard. In his nostrils was the acrid stench of urine and copper from the one prisoner they had taken, copper from the blood he had shed, urine from when he had pissed himself after one of Neville's rounds had gotten him. Harry wanted to vomit as the overpowering smell of shit was around him. Alex had told him that war and killing were very messy, very nasty bits of work that weren't in the least admirable or enviable. Indeed, Alex had told him one night after dinner the only reason he had taught Harry all that he knew, still taught him, of killing and maiming was that Harry was already in a bind that not learning such things would be a death sentence...
The Irishman he had shot was standing there in the middle of the road, pointing at him laughing. Harry felt a fingernail on his right ear, turned his head, and saw Alice, her face pale as she looked at him. She was naked, an obscene image of nudity and carnage, blood dripping from the wound to her throat. Harry was startled, and backed away. Not turning, he tripped and felt himself falling….A dark hallway loomed before him, with a solitary black door at its end. Harry fell towards it, the door getting larger and larger…
Harry's eyes shot open, and he found himself lying in a bed, dripping with sweat. Taking time to control his breathing, he squinted his eyes, and tried to get his bearings. Around him were other beds, with the same white linen sheets and gray bedcovers as his. Harry realized that he was back at Hogwarts in the Infirmary. Judging by the light, it was midday. Harry saw on stand next to his bed were his glasses, and a pitcher of water. Putting them on, Harry saw that he wasn't alone, for the House-Elf Dobby was asleep on the bed next to his. Harry didn't want to wake, but since he was minus wand, weapons, and clothes besides the hospital pajamas he had on, he didn't have much choice either. Gently, he swung his legs out of bed, got up and…fell face-first on to the other bed, causing the poor House-Elf to jump with fright. Harry wasn't much help either, as he suddenly found walking a very tiring exercise.
Propping himself back on to his bed using his elbows, Harry reassured Dobby that he was all right, and in between gasps of air asked if he would be so kind as to get his some clothes, and toiletries from his dorm. Dobby, once satisfied that 'Mister Potter' wasn't going to keel over dead, disappeared with a pop. Harry busied himself by drinking a few glasses of water as he had taken a look at the urine in his bedpan, and it didn't look too healthy. As he did so, he found his wand, watch, ID discs with Ginny's pendant on stainless steel chain, and St.George medal. Taking his watch in hand, Harry opened it and saw that the lunch hour would be within half an hour. Looking at the date, it was a Thursday, the end of the month of January having come and gone. All told, the latest drama had sucked up almost a week of his life. Harry guessed he must have been out of it for a couple of days, as he knew he had been held at least three days in that hellhole.
Dobby returned with a clean set of school uniforms and Harry's shower bag, and Harry thanked him as Dobby took off, claiming that he was needed there. Harry took his kit to the showers right outside the Infirmirary, and stripped naked. Examining himself, he saw that most of his injuries had scabbed over or were gone, and that besides the physical marks and looking like a bloody ghost in color, Harry didn't look too bad. Well, not that bad considering some of the things they could have done to him…Harry wondered for a moment that something wasn't right. Why wasn't there anybody on hand to talk to him as soon as he woke up? It wasn't that he wanted someone to wait on him hand and foot, but common sense and standard procedure would have called for a debriefing to figure out just how much information he had compromised. Considering the information he had been privy to, he was rather surprised Snape wasn't up here pouring Veritaserum down his throat to go over the past several in miniscule detail. Not to mention the fact Pomfrey was very, very watchful of the charges placed in her care, and she was nowhere to be found…
Wetting down and combing his hair (Harry was usually able to deal with his hair for a day when it was long, and since it usually took only a day to grow back if he cut it, he usually wore it trimmed long enough to part), Harry took a breath and left the Infirmirary. Still not seeing Madam Pomfrey anywhere, Harry walked through the hallways towards the Great Hall. Harry made it there without passing anybody, and took a peek in. Sure enough, the whole bloody school was in there stuffing their faces…Harry stepped away from the doorway, and took a deep breath. There weren't any faculty members there, but the last thing he wanted at this point was to be questioned by anybody…Still, he was hungry, and needed some food in him.
Harry took a step in, and started heading towards the Gryffindor table, his eyes darting around the room, watchful for any sudden surprises. It took him only a moment to realize that the noise in the hall was dieing down, as everybody was watching him. Harry didn't care, as he made his way to the Gryffindor table, none of his friends in sight. Everybody seemed to only watch him. Harry sat down, and poured himself a goblet of water, drank, filled it with water and drank again. As he did so, he gazed emotionlessly at the faces around him. None of them had gone to say hello, though the Gryffindor side and a few others he knew had waved or nodded at him in a friendly way. Those people who had greeted him Harry had given a friendly nod and smile, but of the rest few could meet his gaze for long, and went back to doing what they had been doing before. Most merely gave him a sideways look, their expressions indicated something he didn't know. This was upsetting, and while Harry knew it probably wasn't a good idea to try and stare down the better part of the student body, he didn't care as he let his emotions slowly get to him.
While he hadn't hoped for a goddamn parade when he got back (indeed, he hadn't been thinking much of getting back), he had expected something more then to be patched up and pretty much left to his own devices once it looked like he could pull through. It was also pretty upsetting to know that the government that was supposed to protect the wizarding world was oblivious to the threat, indeed was currying the favor and money of such scum as the Malfoys and others of old-line wizarding families who supported Voldemort. All whilst good men and women in the Order and those covert operators who disobeyed the party line within the Ministry risked their lives on a daily basis. Harry was pretty 'upset' that he had had to pack quite a few goblins in rubber bags so that Bladvak could send them back to be buried in their home base. It was infuriating to think that Lucius and his son could rape and kill and mutilate a squib woman and the organs of justice wouldn't hunt them, indeed government would call both upstanding members of society. All the while, eight good men were moldering in the Latvian countryside, and his uncle…
Harry suddenly grew cold as he remembered a conversation with his uncle about Gerry, Alex and Lilly's biological father. Of how as a little boy looking at the picture of 'Uncle' Gerry on the wall of their living room young Alex would want nothing more then to one day be just like that. Harry realized with a cold, icy feeling in the pit of his stomach that Alex had indeed become like Gerry: both were missing, and unaccounted for…
"Harry!!"
Harry turned and saw Doc, Hermione, Katrina, Ron, and Neville walking towards him at a fast pace. Doc was even more hurried, pushing past a couple of third-year Ravenclaws who gave him dirty looks that he ignored as he slapped Harry on the back and shook his hand. Ron did likewise as the women hugged him, all of them asking him if he was all right. Harry smiled thinly, and nodded. "Did Ginny make it back all right?" While he had seen he fly over the wall he had to be sure.
Ron nodded, and looked as though he were going to say something when Hermione, face frowned in thought, beat him to the punch.
"Harry, what were you two doing out there at that hour?" Harry had had a good idea that someone was going to ask that and had already thought of a simple, honest response…
"I was giving a helping hand to the Team with the upcoming Slytherin game. Which reminds me, we won didn't we?"
Neville, who had been sitting across from him next to Katrina, shook his head, and looked over at Ron. "You want to tell him or should I?"
Harry's friends told him of the night when he had been captured. It had been late in the evening, and everyone had been in the common room when McGonagall had burst in, a gaggle of students she had commandeered from the library behind her. She had told Ron and Hermione that the school was under lock-down, and everyone was to stay in the tower. Everyone had started flapping when neither Harry nor Ginny could be found. They had waited for about an hour, which was when Dumbledore had called an assembly in the Great Hall. By that time, McGonagall had informed them of Ginny, but not of Harry. Nobody had a good idea of what had happened. They had trooped into the Hall where Doc had been talking to Ginny, and the teachers were sitting at their table. In the space in front of the teacher's table was a long row of bodies, covered up by black cloth. Ginny had been crying, looking pale, and hadn't said much as everyone asked what was going on. Nev said he had an idea things were pretty bad when he saw the bodies, and the fact that Harry wasn't there was especially ominous.
Once everyone was present and accounted for, Dumbledore had gotten right to the point: the school had been attacked, they had taken casualties, and so had the enemy. More importantly, one of their own was missing, and it was Harry. This had caused Neville and Doc to grab Ron and pin him to the table when he had decided it would be a splendid idea to rearrange Malfoy's face when the Slytherin table hadn't been exactly shocked, and Malfoy had smiled when Dumbledore had announced that Harry had gone missing. Alex had stepped in then, giving quick orders, all blunt and business.
Fourth-years and below were to stay in their respective dorms until further notice. Fifth and above were to form search parties in groups of four, using any and all available brooms and, equipped with magical detection, track Harry or his captors within a fifty kilometer radius to include the forest. On the ground, Allister Moody, Professor Ramius, and other faculty that weren't guarding the school would be likewise searching along with help from the goblins and dwarves. Alex had then called out the Weasley twins, telling them to bring forth the project that they had been working on for him.
The project had been a magic carpet holding eight people, and the twins had been working on it, with the blessing and protection of Alex Evans, breaking countless Ministry rules and regulations in the process. Hermione had said that at the time, worried about the backlash, but had been promptly ignored as Alex had named Neville in overall command of the air aspect of the search. Within thirty minutes, the school had been emptied out as everybody was airborne searching in eight-hour shifts the surrounding area of the school. Alex, after issuing his orders, had promptly disappeared with Billy Fish. When Neville had asked him his role in the upcoming search, he had grinned feral, and replied, "Hunting." Alex had then given him the keys to unlock the arms room for the Self Defense and Dueling Club, and pretty much everybody who was comfortable with firearms had been packing in addition to their wands.
For the next two days and nights they had searched. Even though it was winter, a warm front had moved in, making it cold and miserable as a period of icy rain battered down on them. School had pretty much been shut down as Neville and his search teams combed every centimeter of dirt. Moody and the goblins had done likewise, things getting nasty on the ground as the Centaurs had launched hit and run attacks on the parties, and a full-scale firefight had broken out when they had stumbled upon the Arcmantula lair in the center of the forest. Moody was tight-lipped about the details, but the magical wireless set they had aboard the carpet had been tuned to the goblin's frequency, and they had taken casualties.
On the third day, Dumbledore had announced over the wireless that they had twenty-four hours before they called the search off. The reason being was that Draco Malfoy had vanished without a trace from the school library during the down-time between flights. Albus had received word that shortly a team from the Ministry of Magic would be there to take charge of the investigation and search, as Fudge had decided to step in personally. Harry snorted at that, but listened as Neville stopped for a moment. Doc picked up where he had left off, as towards dawn of the fourth day, Neville had sent everyone back, but from then (with Doc, Ron, and twins in perfect agreement) had said fuck Malfoy and continued the search for Harry. Harry glanced over at Neville, and was about to thank him when he was waved off.
Doc finished the story, "So, anyhow, we continued the search pattern a couple more times until this big damn red thing shot out of the woods to the West. Before your uncle took off, he briefed us that he was operating in a communications blackout, and the only way we would reach him was if he fired off fireworks of a sort that was rather visible. We saw it, did a flyby, and picked you up."
Harry had figured as much, and yawned heavily. Shaking his head, he picked up a goblet of water, only to have it slip out of his fingers and spill over the table. Swearing, he drew his wand and cleaned up his mess. Rather he tried to, for he found his right hand shaking uncontrollably and stared at it, not really thinking. After all, imagine if you suddenly found your hand shaking like a leaf in the middle of a winter's storm?
Fortunately, he was saved from further explanation for he heard the voice upon which he had prayed, hoped, he would hear once more. "Hello, Harry." It was soft, warm, and velvety, Harry had to control his feelings as he turned and saw Ginny and Luna walk hurriedly towards the Gryffindor table. Harry kept his shaking hand to his side, out of sight, instead throwing his other around Ginny as she gave him what appeared to be a friendly embrace. It was quick, yet Harry was never a man to waste his time, breathing in the clean scent of her, feeling her warmth for that second. Ginny took the empty seat next to his right, Luna joining her. Harry gave her a brief look before being drawn back into the game he hated, yet played so well because he had to. "Harry, I know you just got back, but…"
"Hermione, let him."
"Na, go ahead Hermione, what?"
"Where's Professor Evans, Harry?"
That had been a question Harry had been dreading, and even in his present surroundings the events of his little rescue played in his mind like a bad film reel. Harry, his hand under control now somewhat, drank some water, and looked around his circle of friends. Truly they were friends, true friends, as with all he had shared danger or deprivation or both. He had to tell them, as all of them had suffered to some extent in the period he had suffered…Some more so then others perhaps…
Slowly, in a low voice, he began relating his story, of how he had been secretly instructing Ginny in the finer points of the Firebolt to use in the upcoming game. Of how they had stumbled across the blood-sucking bastards by accident, of how Harry had deduced that if they had penetrated that close to the school none of the security measure in place had detected, and the delaying action he had fought as a result. Harry didn't linger over his captivity, as he knew they had seen the state he had been in brought out of the forest. To answer Hermione's question, he told of the rescue, the new information brought to light, of blood and death in a far-away land. Despite his control of his emotions, Harry found himself almost whispering the end of the story: of Alex leering and laughing in the face of death.
Harry looked in the face of Hermione, and shrugged, "That was the last I saw of him, and until I talk to the Headmaster." Ron slowly slapped his forehead, everybody seemed to be agitated. Doc and Neville looked into their goblets, and it was Ginny who told the tale. Dumbledore had been forced to flee when Fudge and the Ministry tried to arrest him. Dolores Umbridge was now the new Headmistress, and things weren't good in Hogwarts land. Moody, Ramius, and Figg had been fired, the dwarf and goblin protectors of the school sent away. All activities of the Dueling and Muggle Self-Defense Club had been curtailed, curfew hours were even more strictly enforced with the help of a group of students called the Inquisitorial Squad, and the Quidditch season placed on hold for the foreseeable future.
Listening until he was sure she was finished, Harry asked, "What was the charge for Dumbledore's arrest?"
"Kidnapping."
"ME!?" Harry thought had to be the most asinine thing he had ever…
"No, Malfoy."
"What?"
Ginny sighed, "Evans apparently kidnapped Malfoy, for what, no one's sure. All anybody knows is that Malfoy disappeared for several days, and didn't return until the day you were found. The next day Umbridge and Fudge showed up, claiming Evans was the ringleader with knowledge and support of the Headmaster and things degenerated into that dust-up in the Infirmirary…" Harry could no longer hear her, remembering how his uncle had spat in his face there was no boundary he would not cross if it meant protecting him and those he loved. From what he knew, from what had happened, Harry knew that Alex had gotten his location in the most brutal and efficient way possible: kidnapping the only child of a prominent Death Eater, and bartering a life for a life. No wonder he wasn't rotting in a shallow grave or screaming himself hoarse, begging for death…
Harry didn't hear anything else, but then noticed everyone at the table tensing up, Ron scowling. What the hell is…
"Welcome back, Potter"
Malfoy the younger, doubtless with his goon squad following close behind him. Harry breathed deeply, and turned in his chair slowly. Sure enough, there was the blonde-headed son of a whore, a disgustingly arrogant smirk on his face. Next to him were Crabbe and Goyle, and that heifer from Slytherin called Bullstrode. The fact all of them had drawn wands held to their sides…and one their robes were silver badges with a large 'I' decorated on them. Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising, that tingling sensation he had when the adrenaline was flowing…Something bad was going to happen, and Harry had to wonder if he still had it after some of the shit he had had to put up with during his captivity…
The Goon Squad moved quickly, all pointing their wands at him. Harry was vaguely aware that the whole bloody school seemed to be watching. Worse, of the couple of faculty members at their table, none seemed to be making any moves to stop them. "Get up Potter," Malfoy commanded. Harry did so, and immediately Crabbe and Goyle had gripped him by the arms and started pushing and hauling him to the front of the room, the area in front of the faculty table. Not resisting, Harry looked around, and saw that everyone was watching in frank curiosity, wondering what was going to happen. Looking over towards the door, Harry spotted Dolores Umbridge, Severus Snape, and Minerva McGonagall walking towards their table. The two he knew had their faces expressionless, whilst that of the toad-like woman was one of triumph, glee…Things Harry had seen all too well in his captivity to know that what was about to happen wasn't going to be very pleasant.
Malfoy and his goons stopped in front of the table, and waited until the Headmistress and the two professors had taken their seats. Umbridge looked at him, her face having that smile he hated. "So, I see you are awake now, Mister Potter?" Harry shuddered slightly; her voice made him want to vomit. Nodding, he looked her in the eyes, and demanded, "Indeed, now is there a point for all of this, ma'am?"
"Yes, there is, let me read to you…" Umbridge pulled a scroll out of her robes, and began reading. It told of a kidnapping plot by Alex Evans, with the assistance and possible direction of the Headmaster, plotted to kidnap and blackmail a friend of the Minister of Magic. Additionally, there had been evidence to indicate the creation of a private force under the control of the Headmaster. All apparently in attempts to circumvent and/or undermine the authority of the rightful government. While the two main culprits had yet to be found, Harry was considered an unwitting accomplice, one nonetheless guilty of lying, cheating, and a host of other minor infractions.
The story didn't make much sense, almost glaringly a chunk of propaganda. Yet Harry knew that it would be believed more so then any defense he could give of being on the front lines of a dirty, vicious war in the shadows.
"Based on what you have previously done for the wizarding world, the Minister has shown leniency in regards to your own punishment." Umbridge paused, and Harry knew the ax was about to fall, and he had accepted the possibility of something like this for a very long time. Harry briefly wondered what it would be…Expulsion, imprisonment, exile with his memory modified of the world of magic?
"Harold James Potter of House Gryffindor, for the rest of your school career at Hogwarts, you are prohibited from playing Quidditch, attending any clubs, organizations, or socials, and any possible position of leadership. Your house will not lose any house points over the matter due to the severity of the offenses you have committed. Nonetheless, you will be punished as I have reinstated corporal punishment." Harry's ears perked up at this, for after what he had just gone through what would getting hit a couple more times does to him? It certainly couldn't kill him, make him beg for mercy when that cunt had almost castrated him…
Umbridge continued, "You have your choices: a dozen lashes with a cane on your rear end, or two dozen on your back." She looked at him, and smirked, "What shall it be Mister Potter?"
Harry could figure out that she was lying through her teeth, that the second, more painful one was the real punishment. The bitch wanted him to look weak before his peers, a coward to whom the crowd she was playing to it would become obvious her story had merit.
Harry smiled, "The back, of course. I wouldn't want to give the masochists here the satisfaction of watching them whip my ass."
"Language, Mister Potter. That will be an extra six lashes. Now step forward and remove your clothing from the waist up." Harry laughed and stepped forward, shedding his clothes quickly and efficiently. No wasted motions, as within a few heartbeats he could hear the gasps from the student body as they saw the shape his back was in. Doubtless they have never seen the effects a red-hot poker, cigarettes, whicker canes, and the occasional sharp edge will do to the human body, Harry thought to himself. Judging by the reactions of those in front of him, Harry knew many of the teachers hadn't either. Umbridge seemed to have paled when she saw his injuries, but nonetheless instructed him to move forward. Harry looked over his professors, and saw that McGonagall's faced was in an expressionless mask, whatever her feelings were he couldn't tell. Snape though…Harry couldn't tell just what he was thinking, but deep down he knew the whoreson must feel something good to watch the son of an enemy punished like this…
Harry stared into the eyes of the man he considered an enemy, yet one who was an enemy of an even greater enemy. Did that make him a friend? Harry had been trying to figure that out, and still didn't have a good answer. Then he felt the sting of the thin rod of willow that was being used on him. In the corner of his eyes, Harry saw that Malfoy and Filch were wielding the instruments. Harry kept his face blank of expression, his mind thinking instead of far more pleasanter things. In his mind he replayed his memories of Ginny. That first kiss, both cold and drawing upon each other for warmth those months earlier, Harry thought of that and not of the pain that stung across his damaged torso. In his mind, he could see those soft lips, the smell of her hair…
Harry's thoughts stopped as he felt something intrude on the very peripheries of his mind. Just as quickly as he drew upon his memories, he shut them up, imagining a blank wall. Angry now, he glared over at Snape, sure that the greasy headed motherfucker had decided to peep on whatever he thought of to keep going. Harry wondered for a moment if he should rip into Snape's mind, to see just what he used to keep himself sane during the times of trial. Just as quickly as the thought occurred, he got rid of it, as he heard the twenty-eight crack on his back. Patiently, he waited, and felt the next two. Umbridge proclaimed his sentence complete, and to catch up on any school work. Malfoy and his goon squad walked towards their table, and Snape tossed him his shirt and robes.
Harry could feel the blood running down his back as he tossed on the shirt, buttoned it half way, and turned to the front. Everyone was staring at him, and he could see Hermione and Ginny both had tears in their eyes. Holding his head high, Harry felt isolated, a fool as everything that he had fought for, bleed for, nearly died for, and had been for naught it seemed. In circumstances like that, he did the only thing he could do…
Without another glance, he strode to the doors of the Great Hall, and left for the Infirmirary.