After he walked out of Dumbledore's office, he walked through the halls for a few minutes in something of a daze. It wasn't as full as right after classes ended but there were still a few groups of students here and there. Gradually his senses came to him and he realized if he was going to keep this to himself, he needed to get away from people. He couldn't risk running into Ron and Hermione. They would see on his face that he was wrestling with something. So, he walked out onto the grounds. He went down near the lake and could see the Durmstrang ship there. He walked further out. His head was full of questions. What should he do? What would happen if he got to know this girl? Could he learn to like her? What if they didn't get along? What would he say to Ron and Hermione! What would they think? Would it mean never getting to be with Cho? What would be expected of him? Would he actually be expected to have sex with her? To marry her? How could anyone expect him to be sure
As a 14 year old, much of Harry's thoughts now centered around sex. He had tried to ignore boners in class. He had learned to masturbate in his bed at night, how it made it easier to sleep. But it had still seemed somewhat remote, somehow academic. The thought that he might actually do it soon, this year, had never really occurred to him. Other things were always at the top of his mind. How was he supposed to focus on the third task and his schoolwork with this happening? But what would happen if he decided to just go his own way? Would the girl really suffer and die? Was there really nothing that could be done?
As he walked, he realized just how much Dumbledore had left unanswered. He walked further out and around towards Hagrid's. But he knew he couldn't get too close. How could he even discuss something like this, even with friends? He wouldn't know how to begin. He gradually circled around. His mind drifted a bit. He thought about Quidditch. He thought about the first time he met Hermione. He hadn't really known what to think of her then. But now he couldn't imagine life without her in his life as his friend. How he wished he could just talk to her about it. But what would he say? How could he explain? Would she think he was a creep?
Slowly the thought took shape in his mind. He had to push Dumbledore further. Was there really nothing that could be done to mitigate the situation? He couldn't just accept this as his fate. He had to look for another way. Dumbledore needed to look further. What about Flitwick? And McGonagall? Or even Snape, although Harry disliked the thought? Wasn't there some potion or countercharm for it? He had to try. He began walking back towards the castle. This couldn't be so black and white. He was determined to try to find some other way.
His mind had resolved itself into a thorough determination. Even without Hermione or Ron, he felt this had to be the right next step. His stride lengthened. He stepped with more confidence.
But there was one other thought that came to him, if only briefly. If there really was no other way — no potion, no countercharm, no magical plant, no treatment from a healer — that could solve the issue, then he couldn't just let that girl die. He had saved her in the lake. How could he let her suffer and die? After all, she seemed a sweet girl. Did Dumbledore mention she was already experiencing the effects?
He tried to flush the thought from his mind and think of what he would say to Dumbledore as he reached the doors of the castle. He was determined to solve this.
Far away across the grounds, inside the great carriage, a young girl had just retired to her room for a nap. She drew the covers around her.
Suddenly Gabrielle felt a tiny wave of warmth that seemed to break over her. It felt warm and comfortable and was the first good thing she had felt since she had left the lake. It lasted for a moment. It was such a relief to not be feeling that growing ache she had felt with greater and greater severity since she had departed from the ceremonies beside the lake. It felt like muscles in her that had been tensed for several days suddenly unclenched and she could relax. She didn't know why it was happening or why it felt so good, but she leaned into the feeling, snuggling down into her bed. Her mind felt like it could go where it wanted again, that it wasn't trapped.
But after about a minute it began to fade and, in another minute, it was gone. The tension and frustration had returned. She felt like she wasn't totally at home in her body. And her mind was once again in a cage. She felt she could look only in one direction down a long back tube: him. But he still felt far away. And it frustrated her that the only images she had of him (other than from on books she vaguely remembers seeing when she was younger) were from the lake and beside it, when he was drying off and just sitting there by that redheaded boy and people were constantly around him, so she had hardly been able to see him for any length of time. She wanted to be able to look at him for a long time and not have anyone else around.
She was once again uncomfortable in the bed. No position felt right. It was such agony to not be able to be at all comfortable. Why had she had that feeling of warmth? How could she get it back? She tried to move back to the exact position she had been in when it has happened. But it didn't work. She was aware of only one thing that brought even slight, temporary relief. She had already done it today, but it wore off quickly. She was somewhat reluctant to try again. Finally, though, her right hand dipped beneath the covers.