Carrie woke up feeling as though someone had tied her down to something. She was restrained as she tried to fight the rising panic swelling up inside her, shutting her eyes tightly to block out what appeared to have happened. But nothing could stop the screams from rising in her throat, and nothing could stop them from coming from her lips, as she screamed and screamed, an endless torrent of agonizing cries. She could hear a male voice: "Let me see him!" and briefly wondered who was with her. But before she could register who the mysterious voice belonged to, a tall, lanky, dark-haired boy burst through the door holding his glasses with one hand and a skinny piece of wood in the other. He looked around frantically, searching for something that apparently was not there, because after circling the room once, his face fell. He sighed while pushing his scraggly hair out of his eyes and across the room muttering Lumos. The room lit up and Carrie gasped inwardly. First telekenisis, then ...magic?
Harry's emerald green eyes fell on her pale , ashen face and he was taken slightly aback.
"You're not Mr. Weasley," He said, stating the obvious.
Carrie just stared at him, too terrified to comprehend why this handsome young boy was standing by her bedside. The only thought she could entertain at the moment was that she was only covered by a thin paper gown and a smelly tan blanket; not much to protect her from the seemingly unwanted appearance of this boy.
Carrie made a few attempts to speak, but nothing more then squeaks came out. Harry, having dealt with similar behavior from Ginny after being possessed by Voldemort, knew how to deal with her. He approached the bed and leaned against one edge of it, cautiously.
"Don't be afraid, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, I was just looking for my friend's dad, Mr. Weasley…you don't know him do you?" Harry stopped when Carrie slid deeper under the covers.
"Of course you wouldn't, what am I saying? Anyways, my name's Harry."
No response from Carrie.
Harry swallowed, thinking. "Ah…should I go?"
Carrie finally mustered enough courage to open her mouth. Without moving, she uttered a small squeak, a fraction of a word.
"Sorry, what?" Harry replied, leaning in closer.
"No," Carrie managed, "Stay."
"All right," said Harry nervously, looking around the room.
"Sit," Carrie said. She seemed to be capable of only uttering one word at a time.
"All right," said Harry again, dragging an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair to her bedside. An awkward silence followed.
Finally, Carrie willed herself to break the ice. "Ahm—where am I?" she asked softly.
"St. Mungo's," said Harry. "The wizard's hospital. You look pretty bad off, to tell the truth. What happened?"
Yes, Carrie, what happened? She asked herself. She was suddenly struck with a sickening longing for her mother, the same mother who had, as she now recalled, stabbed a knife into her back as she cried and cried after the prom. She had only replaced one kind of blood with another, she thought, I'll never be able to get rid of it, I'll always have blood on my hands. She closed her eyes and saw every knife in the house hovering in midair, waiting, just waiting, to nail her mother to the cross as a pseudo-Jesus. Her mother the martyr. She was about to speak when she heard a gasp.
"My God," whispered Harry.
Carrie opened her eyes and discovered three chairs almost reaching the ceiling. She shrieked at her sudden loss of control and the chairs crashed to the ground.
"How did you do that without a wand?" Harry demanded.
Carrie just sat, stricken, her face pointed away from him. She didn't want him there anymore, and in fact, she couldn't quite remember why on earth she'd wanted him there in the first place.
"Go away," she said in a leaden voice.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious at having disturbed her.
"Go away," repeated Carrie, her voice shrinking with uncertainty.
Before Harry could say anything else, he heard Ron's voice calling to him from the outside hallway: "Harry, mate? We've found Dad. Aren't you coming in to say hello?"
When Harry didn't respond right away, Ron barreled into Carrie's room and said, "Harry? You alive in there?"
Carrie sank deeper into her bed at this second intruder.
"I'll be right there, Ron," said Harry. He glanced at Carrie one last time. "Listen, I really am sorry about all this," he told her. "I don't know what's happened, but if you ever need someone to talk to—"
Carrie slammed down both windows and drew the curtain around her without even lifting a finger, ignoring Ron's cry of "Wicked!"
"Go away," she repeated again, her voice even and harsh.
When she was sure that the two invaders were gone, she shut the door to her ward and locked it. No one else was going to disturb her. All she needed was some peace and quiet.