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Oh yeah, and I'm posting chapter four and five in the same five minutes, so no cookies this time, and no nominations. But there will be for the next person that reviews!
IN THE WING
'Harry!'
'Ssh! You'll wake him...'
'He is awake, see…'
The voices had woken Harry up. Every part of him seemed to ache. He tried to sit up…to think, but a hand gently pushed him down.
'Harry…'came the voice. Harry knew whose voice that was. That was Dumbledore's voice…what had he done? 'Harry, are you feeling alright?'
Harry opened his throat, but no words came out. His jaw felt very heavy, and, when he tried to take a deep breath, his chest hurt, as though all the people in the room were pressing down on him.
Harry opened his eyes, and somebody put his glasses on for him. It was Hermione.
'Thanks,' He tried to say, but no words came out; he made an indistinct noise in his throat, and slowly nodded, but Hermione smiled shakily anyway.
Harry tried again to sit up, and Dumbledore gently pressed Harry down. Some one handed him a glass of a shimmering potion. Harry drunk it, and felt his senses sharpen. He could see the outline of Dumbledore's face, his crooked nose, and his half-moon glasses. He could hear people move back, as the Headmaster addressed Harry.
'Harry,' said Dumbledore slowly, 'I need to know what happened last night.'
Harry felt a rush of panic – did he want to tell the Headmaster what he had done? Not in front of all these people. Dumbledore, as though reading his mind, sent the rest of Harry's crowd out the room.
Harry talked from when he left Transfiguration early. He talked (though with some difficulty) about Sirius. Harry's voice faltered. Harry hung his head, but Dumbledore raised his chin.
'There's nothing for you to be ashamed of Harry,' Harry stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes, 'He will always be with you, especially you, in here.' Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's heart.
Feeling braver, Harry plunged on.
'I fell asleep, and I had a-a weird dream. I, um, met Ron, you know Ron …' Dumbledore promptly nodded, 'and I, er, yelled a bit … and, er …'
Dumbledore cut him off there.
'A dream?' He said sharply. 'What dream, Harry? There was a dream? Was this before or after you met Mr Weasley?'
It took Harry several moments for him to get round this extraordinary proclaim. The horrible truth sunk into him.
'That-that dream happened?' Had he really misused Ron? Had Ron's look of terror been for real?
Harry felt like he had been travelling for miles by Floo Powder, but worse, a thousand times worse.
'Ron…'He muttered distractedly, and got up to go to the Common room. He had to apologize to Ron…
Dumbledore pushed him down onto his bed again. He heaved a deep sigh, and started to talk as though finishing off a sorrowful story.
'Mr Weasley woke me up; it must have been at quarter to one, with an unexpected story. He told me he found you in the Owlery, and you, er, saw him and started to shout. Professor McGonagall told me a short while ago that she had heard you. Many other people did, too, and they–'
'What did I say?' Harry demanded, in what he knew was an aggressive voice. 'Professor?' He added to make himself sound more polite.
'Something - something on the lines of him and a certain Miss Granger. He said you were rather upset.'
Harry's heart raced – he could only imagine what he had said to Ron, but he still had a rough idea. After a few minutes in complete silence, Harry cast around the Hospital Wing for something to say; the silence was worse than talking.
'Er, Professor? How come I'm still alive? The last things I remember were the centaurs.' But was this true? Harry thought back to last night, and he had definitely heard someone calling his name…he couldn't tell whose voice it was…he himself had been yelling so loud…
Dumbledore continued as though he had not been interrupted.
'When Mr Weasley sped from my sight, I knew he was looking for you. I-I gave him his chance. He wanted to go, and I let him. I should have come, and I regret it all now,' he sighed, 'another old man's mistake. Now we have all learnt the hard way.'
When Harry looked blankly up at Dumbledore, he sighed once more, and gently flicked his wand. The curtains of the bed next to him slowly opened…Harry could see the outline of someone tall, someone with red hair –
'Ron! What happened? Is he all right? This is all…all my…'
Harry guessed what happened last night – and looked over at Ron, who was lying immobile, his eyes shut, and his face, as well as being scarred, was much, much paler than the mud and blood on his face, and arms. Harry thought that he had got off easy. The whole of Ron's right arm had been scratched, and some of the wounds still lay open. Even though Harry was still in his bed, he could see a size-able gash in his neck, across his throat…
'Ron…' Harry muttered again, getting up from his bed amid protests from Dumbledore, whose voice died down. He realised the importance of the situation.
Once up from his bed, Harry wiped the back of his hand on his forehead, and found that there was not only sweat, but also blood on it. Hastily ignoring this, he turned, and looked into Ron's colourless face.
'I'm sorry, mate,' he whispered. He felt it wasn't good enough. 'I am so, so sorry, I meant none of it, I really have no problem, honest, I just – just…'
Dumbledore softly brought Harry back to his bed.
'It's all right,' Dumbledore said, 'He's been like that since I got you two from the Forest. Come on…bed.'
But as Harry climbed into bed, holding his goblet full of dreamless sleep, he heard Ron talk in a voice barely higher than a whisper.
'S'ok, Harry.'
Harry finally cracked, and silent tears fell down his face, onto his pillow. He wiped these away before Dumbledore could see, and, full of exhaustion and guilt, Harry bade Ron good night, which he answered silently, and slowly sipped his swirling goblet, and fell asleep almost instantly.
Over the next few weeks, Harry improved greatly. Most of his scars were gone, but a nasty hoof-shaped bruise was still imprinted on his chest. Harry remained in the Hospital Wing for much longer then he needed, partly because of what Madame Pomfrey said about internal bleeding, but mainly so he could keep an eye on Ron.
Even though it was three weeks since Dumbledore had visited Harry, Ron had shown little signs of being alive. True, he had talked (or rather listened) to Harry, and he sat up, then down, every morning and evening, but he never moved much else.
Harry and Ron got a lot of visitors, even though it was term time. Hermione came in whenever she could: lunchtimes, mornings, evenings, and even in-between lessons, if she could make it. Every time she left the room, she would give them both hugs, and (in Ron's case) a kiss on the cheek. Far from this making Harry upset, it pleased him. Every time he received a kiss from Hermione, Ron blushed red. Harry liked seeing colour in his face – it reminded himself that Ron was getting better.
Ron was certainly looking for the worse. The cut on his throat had hardly healed; it still looked like it had been made hours ago. His arms were still bruised, but had lost the green and purple tint they had had before.
A shaggy-haired Hagrid and a happy Hermione visited Harry and Ron on Halloween eve. Harry and Ron both smiled as they entered, and, to their shock, Hagrid started crying. Hermione looked round at him.
'Hagrid? What's wrong?' She asked kindly.
Harry had already guessed what was wrong, and to his very surprise, he turned out to be quite correct.
'I shoulda controlled the ruddy mules…'sall my fault... I shouldn'av'…oh 'Arry…' Hagrid's head turned towards Ron's injuries, 'an' Ron, I'm so sorry. Yeh wouldn't be like this if it hadn't o been o me…' Hermione patted Hagrid smoothly on the arm (she couldn't reach his back) and Hagrid quietened down. Hermione, after a few moments, braved speech.
'Are you two going to the, um, feast? Dumbledore said–'
'– I can go, but Ron can't.' They both glanced over at Ron, who was looking worse for the wear. Hagrid was gazing down at his feet, looking guilty. Harry, sensing this, changed the subject.
'Is – is what they say about the feast true, has Dumbledore really hired, er, ghosts for the feast?' Harry shot a significant glance at Hermione, then at Hagrid. Hermione followed his gaze, and understood in an instant, and started a small speech on the non-existent rumours about the Halloween feast.
The subject of the feast kept the four of them going, until it was well after sunset. Hermione said her goodbyes, kissed Ron, and left the room with Hagrid, assuring him that there would be dancing Skeletons at the feast.
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