Lucy was glad to see that the hospital wing was nearly empty when they arrived, save for Ron, who was laying unconscious in a hospital bed, battered and bruised. As Madame Pomfrey started tending to Harry, she looked worriedly at her ginger friend. She turned her eyes to Dumbledore for explanation.
"Mr. Weasley sacrificed himself so that Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger might go forward," Dumbledore said sadly. There was also a hint of admiration in his tone. "I imagine you had the same treatment as him?"
She nodded. She didn't think she had to point out that Quirrell sacrificed her— the Greatest Wizard of the Modern Age could gather that much for himself. "How's Hermione?"
"Not a scratch on her. Although, I imagine she is very worried."
"Did you know, Headmaster? What I was doing, I mean," Lucy said, rubbing at her throbbing temple. It was hard to think at the moment. She knew Snape had to have told him something, but she was surprised Dumbledore never approached her about it.
"Severus kept me very informed," Dumbledore confirmed. He gestured for her to sit on a hospital bed and unwillingly, she did so, mostly because the room was still spinning. "I worried approaching you may alert Quirrell."
"That doesn't explain why you didn't stop him before he decided to go after the stone," She argued, growing frustrated. Why did she have to spend the whole year lying if he and Snape knew Quirrell was trying to steal the stone all along?
"I hate to trouble your young mind with this, but you've very well earned it," Dumbledore said with a great sigh. Her eye twitched when he brought up her age. Her age didn't stop her from spying on Quirrell and Lord Freaking Voldemort for a year straight. "As you know, that night Mr. Potter got his scar, Voldemort disappeared. The wizarding world presumed he was dead— I was not so optimistic. I know he's been combing the Earth, not quite alive, but not quite dead. I've always kept a carefully trained eye for Lord Voldemort... and Professor Quirrell offered quite an opportunity. If he knew I was suspicious of him, he would have disappeared, giving Voldemort another chance to come back to full power. There were risks in allowing you to spy on him, but I never thought they would have been so high. Believe me, Lucy, if I'd have known for even a moment Voldemort was attached to Quirrell, I would have removed you from the ordeal entirely. I cannot offer you anything other than my greatest apologies."
Lucy took all of that in. Begrudgingly, her anger subsided. She wasn't mad at Dumbledore, not really. If she had been in his position, she would have done whatever was in the world's best interest as well. "You know what, Headmaster, I think since you told me I'm a wizard and turned my bed into a cat, we can call it even," she said, and she let a smile creep onto her face.
Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised. He seemed to have expected her to be sullen with him— well, Lucy wasn't one for holding grudges. "Lucy, you are a remarkable girl," He chuckled. He caught Madame Pomfrey's eye and stood from the bed. "I had better leave before Poppy decides to use force. Sleep well, Ms. Rochester. And remember— you have done me a great service."
Lucy watched him leave until Madame Pomfrey stood in front of her, an unpleasant looking potion in her hands. She grimaced. "What are the chances that tastes good, Madame Pomfrey?" she said, not sounding very hopeful.
Madame Pomfrey shoved the potion into Lucy's hands. "Not good, Ms. Rochester. Not good at all."
Lucy was released from the Hospital Wing the next day, just in time for lunch. Ron left earlier than she did mostly because he'd been given his potion earlier. She spent the whole morning at Harry's bedside, monitoring any gifts he received in case they were dangerous— which Madame Pomfrey seemed to appreciate— and that was all in good fun, but she was happy to leave the hospital wing. She practically skipped out of the room.
Her face didn't look great. Since it was a magical object that hit her, Madame Pomfrey said all she could do was apply a salve each night. The first thing Lucy did was sprint to her dormitory to change out of her ashy, potion-smelling clothes and into her lucky 'Lucy With-A-Last-Name' shirt. She then sprinted through the halls toward the Great Hall, Grayble in her arms.
"I'm sorry for this, Graybie," she panted when her cat shot her an unimpressed look. "But if I miss lunch, I'm going to cry myself to sleep tonight."
She did not, in fact, miss lunch, but she looked slightly insane when she burst into the Great Hall, holding a cat in her arms, her face bruised.
Hermione was the first one to reach her. Lucy quickly tossed Grayble out of her arms as Hermione pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Lucy!" she cried. "We tried looking for you everywhere, and when we asked your friends, they told us they hadn't seen you since yesterday— are you okay?"
"Great, Hermione," Lucy said in a tight voice, "But some air in my lungs might be nice."
Flushing, Hermione pulled away. "I... I'm sorry I didn't believe you. It's just— well, Quirrell hardly looks threatening, does he?"
"He does not," Lucy agreed. Thinking about Quirrell made her feel sad, so she cleared her throat and glanced at the Hufflepuff table. Her friends were staring at her intently. "I'd better go talk to them. I'll catch up with you after lunch, yeah?"
"All right. And then you'd better tell me everything," Hermione stressed.
Lucy nodded, then made her way over to the Hufflepuff table cautiously, Grayble trotting along behind her. She was probably five feet away when she stopped and held up her hand to wave. "Heeeyyyyy," she laughed nervously.
Megan lunged at her. "You stupid—" she began, dragging her over to the table, "—bloody—" she forced her to sit down, "IDIOT!" and then she crushed Lucy in the warmest, most loving hug Lucy had ever received.
"Nice to see you too," she laughed, patting her friend on the back. She pulled back and smiled at her friend. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for being a git."
"You should be apologizing for putting your life in a stupid amount of danger, but I'll let it slide for now," Megan muttered. Lucy was just glad that nobody was mad at her. That was an extra hurdle she didn't need in her life right now.
Wayne looked at Lucy curiously. "So what happened with Quirrell?" he asked. "Everyone's saying he died."
Her gaze darkened a little at the memory of his melted body, writhing in pain. "Yeah. He's dead."
Anthony, seeing her mood shift, decided he couldn't let that happen. He had been sitting on the opposite side of the table, but he climbed— literally climbed over the table, knocking food and plates aside, so that he could sit next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"So what was his deal? He was working with Voldemort?" He asked.
"In a sense," she said. "Voldemort was attached to the back of his head, like a second face."
She had said it so casually that it almost didn't register in her friends. Hannah gagged into her goblet, while Ernie's face turned a sheet white. "That's what's under his turban?" Justin gasped.
"How could he breathe?" said Susan.
Hannah elbowed her friend in the side. "That's what you're wondering about?!"
"It was a valid question," Lucy defended. "I don't rightly know either, he didn't have a nose from what I saw. I think Voldemort could take over his body, sometimes. Think I spoke to him at least a few times. He liked me," she recalled that one time Quirrell was acting strangely, and he said some nonsense about 'reaping the benefits of choosing the winning side'.
While Ernie looked disturbed at that piece of information, no one else was particularly surprised. Anthony scoffed. "Well, who wouldn't like you? You're adorable." He reached up to ruffle her hair.
Scowling, Lucy batted his hand away. "I am not! And do you want me to pull out the list? All of Gryffindor, excluding the Weasleys don't like me, all the Slytherins hate me, Snape hates my guts, Wayne didn't like me for the longest time—"
"You're tolerable now," Wayne said with a shrug. "'S long as you don't trip me in front of all our year again. Then blame it on me."
"All right, that wasn't cool of me, I apologize," Lucy said but she couldn't help smiling at the memory. Wayne scowled at her, so she quickly changed the subject. "Anyway. Yeah, Voldemort's been on our teacher all year, Quirrell's dead now, what else is there to it?"
"I have something I'd like to know." Daisy spoke up at last, and she was giving Lucy a severe look. "Why on earth do we have a negative BILLION points, Lucille Rochester?! How do you even MANAGE that?"
Anthony suddenly beamed. "Oh, right! I thought you had something to do with that, little one. I'm so proud of you."
Her friends all nodded in agreement. Lucy looked over at the hourglass and sure enough, it was filled to the brim with black negative gems. Obviously a billion gems couldn't fit in it, so there was a bright blue smoke in front of it displaying the numbers, -1,000,000,020 points. Lucy had never seen anything so beautiful.
"Sorry, it's a secret," she grinned. She didn't want to have to explain that Quirrell thought it would be funny while they were on their way to retrieve an immortality stone for the most evil wizard of all times. "Maybe I'll write it in my biography."
"You'll be the next Gilderoy Lockhart," Hannah giggled. Next to her, a dreamy look came over Susan's face.
Anthony wrinkled his nose up in disgust. "Yeah, 'cept Lucy's biography will be real."
"How do you know it's made up, Rickett?" Daisy said in a weirdly defensive tone.
His jaw dropped. He looked at her like she'd just killed his mother. "Locke... Daisy... darling, please do not tell me you're a Lockhart fan."
"I can be a fan of whoever I want, Rickett!" Daisy snapped. Her cheeks were a prim shade of pink.
"Not- Not Gilderoy Lockhart!" Anthony spluttered. He grabbed Lucy by the shoulders and turned her to face him, looking her deeply in the eyes. He had a mad gleam in his eye. "Lucille, you must promise me that you will not, under any circumstances, fall for Lockhart's nonsense. Do you understand me? You must stay innocent."
"I promise!" she said hastily.
Megan glanced in the Daily Prophet, where there was a short article written about the man as well as a picture of him. "He does look rather cute," she mused.
Anthony snatched the paper away and crumpled it into a ball. He launched it at the Slytherin table. It landed in Marcus Flint's soup.
"Oi, the hell was that for?!" Flint demanded.
Anthony flipped him off and looked angrily around at Megan. "Megan Jones, you disappoint me."
"Rickett, you're not going to ruin my breakfast and then pretend it didn't happen!" Flint asserted from the Slytherin table.
He was glowering at Anthony, but the Hufflepuff boy couldn't care less what he thought at the moment. "Shut up, Flint! Maybe if you were a good chaser you might've caught it!"
Daisy groaned. "Oh, dear, they're going to end up dueling..."
"You want to say that to my face, mate?" asked Flint. His fists were balled up in front of him.
"I'd rather not. You're not very pleasant to the eye, you see," Anthony explained.
Flint began to stand from the table. Rolling her eyes, Lucy pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. "Duro!" she said. The spell hit him in the chest, and she watched with great satisfaction as his vest turned to stone. He fell backward off the bench from the weight.
"DETENTION, ROCHESTER!" she heard Snape yell from the Professor's table.
As her friends burst out laughing, Lucy smiled to herself.
It was good to be back.
Harry left the Hospital Wing a few days later, and Lucy felt like she could sing. While he was passed out, she visited him every day, usually for only five or ten minutes so Madame Pomfrey couldn't complain. That might have warmed the matron up to her because she was always allowed to visit him unless he was asleep.
"Madame Pomfrey hardly lets Ron and Hermione in here," Harry said one day while they played a game of ordinary muggle checkers. She was sat on the end of his bed, and he was sitting propped up by pillows as they played. Neither of them were too keen on playing wizarding chess. Heck, even muggle chess sounded like absolute hell all things considered. "How come you're allowed?"
"I'm quiet," she shrugged. Things always tended to get loud with the other two in the hospital wing— Ron and Hermione always ended up arguing, that or playing exploding snap. "You and I, we understand the simple pleasures of muggle board games. Besides, I never argue when she tells me to leave."
Harry smiled. "I guess that's why you're in Hufflepuff and we're in Gryffindor. Also, checkmate."
"This isn't chess, you can't do checkmate—" she stopped when she looked down and saw that in one single move, he'd taken out all her checkers. Sighing, she started putting the game away.
"What? You don't want one more round?" He said with a cheeky grin.
"I think when you've beat me nine times in a row, it's time to play something else," she said dryly.
She leaned over the bed to set the game on the floor then reached to grab a package of licorice wand off his ever-growing pile of gifts. She settled back in her place and bit off the end of one. Harry grabbed one too and they ate in a companionable silence. Madame Pomfrey poked her head out of her office, giving Lucy an approving look when she saw how peaceful they were behaving.
"See?" Lucy smirked. "I'm an angel."
"Yeah, a real role model," Harry snickered. He sat up straighter and then looked her in the eye. "Lucy, tell me honestly... how do you feel about everything? With Quirrell, the whole year. That can't have been easy."
She chewed on the inside of her cheek and glanced to make sure Madame Pomfrey wasn't listening. She sighed; if there was one person she felt okay talking with, it was Harry.
"I don't know, really. It's all confusing. Mostly, it was scary– I thought he'd figure me out at any given moment." Harry nodded in understanding. "But it was also... exciting, a little. I dunno, I just felt like I was doing something important."
"You were. You kept Quirrell at the school- imagine what might've happened if he disappeared with Voldemort and they found some other way to bring him back," Harry insisted. She smiled appreciatively at him— she knew objectively she'd done well, but with how things ended, it didn't always feel that way. "I just wish I would've believed you. I promise that from now on, I'll always have your back."
Lucy stared at him. He didn't know how much those words meant to her. She reached forward and pulled him into a hug, mindful of how sore he still was. "Thanks, Harry," she said genuinely. "For what it's worth, I think you were really brave in there. You're a real hero."
He hugged her back, and it was a rather nice moment until Hagrid sidled into the room. She pulled away just as the giant sat in the chair. He took one look at Harry and then promptly burst into tears.
"It's- all- my- ruddy- fault!" Hagrid sobbed, burying his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thin he didn't knowan' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"
Lucy tried to imagine Hagrid blending into muggle society. Nope, there was no chance that would work— there were tall people, sure, but none quite as big as Hagrid.
"Hagrid!" Harry said, clearly shocked at the sudden appearance of the sobbing man. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him"
"True that," Lucy nodded.
"Yeh could've died!" Hagrid sobbed. "An' don' say the name!"
"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed his name so loudly that even Lucy jumped at the sudden noise. Hagrid was too shocked to continue crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..."
Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Lucy fought the urge to wrinkle her nose. Snot was gross. "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present, Harry. Wish I could'ave got yeh something as well, Lucy, but I wouldn' even know where to start looking."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry took it in his hands and opened it. It was an album of wizarding photographs— each of them contained his parents, waving at the camera. Lucy stared at it curiously; Harry really did look exactly like his father, and his mother was absolutely beautiful. Both were so young. Too young to die.
"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos. Knew yeh didn' have any... D'yeh like it?"
Harry didn't say anything, his eyes glued to the photos. Lucy smiled and nodded for him. Hagrid understood.
At last, they had the end-of-year feast. Lucy couldn't believe the school year was actually over. She went between thinking the year took ten years and ten seconds. Though she wanted to arrive at the feast as quickly as possible, she waited outside the Hospital Wing for Harry. Madame Pomfrey fussed over him last minute so by the time they arrived at the Great Hall, it was already full.
Slytherin colors hung from the ceiling, and a huge banner hung proudly behind the High Table. Lucy didn't even mind that it was Slytherin colors; the decorations were so pretty, she wouldn't have cared if it was neon pink up there.
She sat at her own table with her friends, smiling at Harry as he set off for Ron and Hermione. Megan scooted over to let her sit down. They smiled at each other, but they couldn't begin to chat— Dumbledore arrived moments later.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast."
Anthony snorted. "Merlin, you gotta love Dumbledore. Wheezing waffle."
"He's full of them," Lucy agreed.
"What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts..."
"What do you think, Lucy, did you learn much?" Megan asked her friend with a smirk.
Lucy pretended to think about it. "You know, Megan, I'm not sure I did. Maybe we're too mugglish to understand wizarding concepts!"
"Oh, anything but mugglish!"
"Cram it, you two," Hannah scolded, though she couldn't help but smile.
Dumbledore's speech continued on regardless of their silly comments. "Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Hufflepuff, with negative one billion and a hundred points; in third, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six points, and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
The Slytherin table burst into applause, and they only barely managed to overpower the Hufflepuff table's cheering— they were all obscenely proud of having scored the lowest amount of points in history. Lucy raised her goblet to Quirrell's memory. It was perhaps the finest thing he had ever done for her.
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore said. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
The room went very still. Even the Hufflepuffs stopped their cheering.
"He is not going to..." Daisy whispered, glaring furiously at the Headmaster.
Lucy agreed with her. The Slytherins looked so happy, it would be horrible for their victory to be taken away so cruelly.
"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes... First— to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
The Gryffindor table burst into cheers, all the while Hufflepuff and Slytherin stared at Dumbledore intently.
"Second— to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Lucy finally gave a polite clap for that one. Good for Hermione— she deserved the recognition.
"Third— to Miss Lucille Rochester. For staying resilient even in the darkness, I award Hufflepuff house fifty-five points."
Not that it did much for them, but her friends all burst into loud cheers. Megan reached over to hug her tightly. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink at the attention; she smiled nonetheless.
"Fourth, to Mr. Harry Potter... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
Lucy stood up on her stool and shouted, "YEAHHH! GO HARRY!" But her cry was drowned out by the absolutely deafening cheer the Gryffindor table let out. Now, they were tied at four hundred and seventy-two points. She knew without a sliver of doubt Dumbledore would find a way to give Gryffindor the victory.
"There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore said, "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
She didn't know what Neville had done to deserve ten points, but she smiled at him nonetheless. The Slytherin colors and banners all turned to Gryffindor colors, and she could see her Gryffindor friends point and laugh at Malfoy. She sort of felt bad for him, but the pride she felt for her friends outweighed any sympathy.
This was perhaps one of the best evenings of Lucy's life. Seeing all her friends laughing, clapping, having a wonderful time— it was like she was staring at herself in the Mirror of Erised.
This was all she could ever want.
Perhaps the most tragic part of the year had come: leaving. She found out too late that she did not want the school year to end after all.
Her exam results came in, and she passed with O's all across the board. Although, that had more to do with her tutor than anything.
The Hufflepuffs all had one last party the night before they were due to leave. It'd been absolutely wonderful; Anthony brought in food from the kitchens— which she had yet to find— and he set off fireworks (closely managed by Daisy, of course) that bounced off the walls and tickled students as they whizzed by.
"We'll all write to you," Hannah promised Megan and Lucy, the only two who didn't have owls. They were about to board the Hogwarts Express back home. Lucy would sit with Harry on the way back.
"How are we meant to write to each other?" Lucy said sadly, looking at Megan.
Megan grinned and tapped Lucy on the nose. "The muggle way, silly. I'll write Wool's Orphanage and leave a return address. Either that or Dad will take me to buy one."
She face palmed. Of course, she'd almost forgotten there were muggle ways of doing things. Well, she had better get back with the program soon, because Wool's was decidedly a lot less magical. "All right. Well, I'll see you in a few months, guys."
She hugged each of them one last time before finding her friends.
The ride home seemed to fly by much quicker. By the time they arrived at King's Cross, Lucy felt like running in the other direction, back toward Hogwarts. Seeing Harry's face, he shared her sentiment.
"Only three more months," Harry sighed.
"Three more months," she agreed. She checked the clock on the wall and groaned. "Ugh, whoever's picking me up will be here by now. I'll see you later, Harry. Who knows, maybe I'll even visit."
"I'd love that," Harry snorted, imagining Lucy appearing at the Dursley's front doorstep.
She hugged him warmly before setting off, her backpack slung over her shoulders. The quicker she left, the less likely she was to run away.
An ordinary attendant met her at the platform. The woman didn't say anything; Lucy had never seen her before; she looked new. And very boring. She didn't say a word the whole way back to Wool's, even when Lucy tried to annoy her by making conversation.
By the time they got back to the Orphanage, it was evening, too late for any sort of reunion with Nathan. Lucy entered her old room and sighed at the dreariness of it all.
"Home sweet home," she said sarcastically, dropping her backpack onto her lumpy bed. She started taking everything out and placing them all around her room. She thought she had everything, when she reached into her backpack and found something unfamiliar. An extra book. She pulled it out and examined it.
It was a plain, black diary.
Opening it up, she saw that it was blank. Not a single word written inside it.
Her first instinct was to toss it to the side and forget about it, but then thought better of it. A free journal was a free journal. She hummed thoughtfully and then placed it on her bedside table.
Who knows?
Maybe it was time she kept a diary of her own.