Many thanks for all the reviews; it really is much appreciated and as I said before is a huge incentive to keep writing *hint* *hint*.

Yes, I know this one is a lot darker and more scary than I Did Nothing but periodically my brain takes very dark turns and this is the kind of resultant writing that comes with that. The next chapter I post will definitely be for I Did Nothing and will be nowhere near as triggery (I have just invented the word triggery before you comment) as this is - I know I've written something triggery when I manage to even trigger myself as I did with the last chapter. And many thanks again for all the reviews - doc-blu; yep that is exactly what I was going for and I am very glad I succeeded in my aim.


Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt

There's so much blood, just so much blood. I wouldn't have thought one body could have held so much, much less that you could lose so much. He can't be alive, not when so much of his life is spilt. It's not possible. We're too late. Poppy and Severus grab the boy from the tub as if he weighs nothing and set him on the floor, frantically working to try to save him but I am just on my hands and knees retching. We've lost him. How could I have failed this child so badly? How could I have let things go so, so very wrong? I thought he was strong, that he'd coped so well with everything, never seeing the scared and breaking child who was my ward. The words from his letter flash before my eyes and I can't help the sobs that erupt from my chest. How could I have let this happen? He can't die. He can't.

By the time you read this I will be dead.

From my near prone position on the floor I can see how pale the child is, he's as white as pure snow and there's an odd look of peace on his face which seems completely at odds with the carnage of the room around him. Poppy doesn't need any diagnostics to know what the problem is; the problem would appear to be the two gaping wounds all the way down the inside of his inner arms. They're too precise to be the work of any knife or razor; it's got to be a carefully aimed and forceful cutting charm. Not something to toy with idly. This was certainly no attention seeking bid. The boy wasn't taking chances; a late night escape, a hidden room somehow charmed so nobody could get in except the house elves and one of the most effective cutting methods I can think of. We are going to lose him.

"You are not dying on me now, you insufferable brat," the words are right but the tone is wrong; it's too harsh and there's a rare fear there which is most unlike the man. Severus isn't insulting the boy as much as he is desperately trying to will away the fear that is taking over him as much as it has taken over me. His face is as white as I have ever seen it and his fear that he won't be able to save the boy this time is clear in his shaking hands and the thickness of his voice. "I've saved your selfish hide too many times to let you go like this. Breathe, goddammit. Just breathe."

Please tell Professor McGonagall not to blame herself; it's not her fault, it's mine. I could have gone to her but didn't, I could have asked for help right from first year, but didn't. I hid everything from her; she can't blame herself.

What should he have told me in first year? What else did I miss that has led to the child in front of me throwing away his life in such a tragic and futile manner? What was he hiding from me then that I was too wrapped up in school business to notice? I know that if we lose him, I can't teach anymore. I won't be able to look at the faces around me and not see this broken, bleeding child that I failed so badly. I won't be able to go around pretending to be strong when my failure led to the completely futile death of a young man with so much potential and life in him. The death of Harry Potter, a boy who has already come through so much only to give up now.

I feel a light touch on my arm and turn to see the house elf looking straight at me.

"Mistress must open the door. That is the only way for the young Master to live. Mistress wants young Master to live, yes?"

"Yes," I choke out. "Yes, I want Harry to live!"

The medi-witch and the Potions Master are still frantically trying to resuscitate the child lying in a pool of his own blood, blood which he spilled himself in despair and hopelessness. Poppy is getting blood replenishment potions and who knows what else down him at a rapid rate whilst Severus is pounding on the boy's chest in some muggle display that I don't understand. But it's clear that they are fighting a losing battle; without the quickness of the house elves we wouldn't even stand this much of a chance but they can't keep this effort up much longer and the boy is still completely unresponsive.

"Yes! I can't let Harry die!" My voice is desperate as I watch the battle for life playing in out in front of my very eyes. The battle for a such a brave, courageous, generous and sacrificing boy, the battle for a boy I love. "What do I have to do? Tell me, please!"

The house elf looks at me seriously before responding.

"Mistress can do it. Cora will bring the other Masters to the door but Mistress must open the door."

"How do I do that!?" I respond frantically, real honest fear overtaking me. I have a chance to help him and I don't know what to do. "You said Harry had sealed it from us."

"Young Master did. But this is the Room of Requirement. It is what you needs it to be." The elf is looking at me as if I were a small child who is being instructed in something basic that I should already know. "You musts speak to the Hogwarts, Mistress must open her magic and speak. This place it will help you, it has strong magic. It is responding to the young Masters will but it doesn't want the child to die. It cries out for him. You must speaks to it. Dobby will hurt if anything happens to his Harry. This is how you save him."

That is the longest speech I have ever heard a house elf give and it is clear that she meant every word of it. She has the way to save my child and has just given it to me except I have no idea what she wants me to do. I have to try though. I have to try. If this is the way to save Harry then I will have to do it. I will have to find a way or die trying.

"Cora will gets the other Masters. Mistress must open her magic. It is the only way." She looks down at her feet for a fraction of a second before putting her hand on a fair approximation of where the heart is before continuing. "It is here. Mistress must look here." With that last remark she cracks out of the room again.

I'm sorry, I'm through.

No, Harry. You are not through. You are not through at all. I promise you that. I focus all my energy and concentrate fiercely as I feel it wash through me. But I can't feel anything but my own magic, my own energy. Nothing at all. I can't help wondering whether the elf is just crazy, I mean Albus has mentioned before that the castle has a life of its own but the way she portrayed it the castle might as well have been sentient. Sentient. And then I have it.

If I'm reaching out to another sentient magical being with energy I don't stay within myself, that would be pointless. I have to reach out, propel my energy towards the object of my attention. So hastily raising a shield around the three figures in a frantic battle between life and death, I do exactly that. I push out, more than a probe, more than a tentative expression of interest or attempt to gain attention. I propel my energy out around me, searching, seeking, probing. I can see the look of complete shock on Poppy's face as she watches the magical energy suddenly flying around the room, but I pay her no heed. Severus is too focused on what he's doing, which I finally realised were an attempt to get the boys heart beating to even notice the change in atmosphere.

And then I find it and I nearly lose hold on my magic completely. It's like nothing I have ever felt in my life before and the elf was right, it is reaching out to Harry. More than just calling, more than crying it is pulsing through the boy and I am almost certain that in its own way it is doing its best to keep the boy alive, but it can't do it alone. The help that it has given is probably the only reason we still have any chance at all though. With a surge of determination I propel my desperation, fear, helplessness and love for the boy lying in front of us at it in waves that pound through it like a tidal wave. The presence doesn't change in any recognisable way but somehow I get the impression that it recognises me, it recognises what I am trying to say. Praying to any God I can think of I keep the relentless waves of emotion; guilt, pain, heartbreak and my desperation to save the child flowing but I know that I'm missing something. It is what you needs it to be. That's what the elf had said. Potter needed a safe haven where no-one could find him, no-one could save him, no-one could reach him. He needed a place to die in peace. I need the complete opposite.

So I add in the image of the open door, of medics being able to reach us and the boy being helped. I add in all of the memories I have of that cold and white boy on the floor, not as he is now but as he always has been. His hair flapping all over the place as he laughed and joked with his friends, the way he whipped through the air on that Firebolt whooping for joy in sheer childish abandon. Tears are streaming down my face as I hurl memory after memory at this presence, what Harry is and what I want to bring back. The triumphant child who stormed into my office with a bloody sword in one hand whilst tightly clutching another child we all thought we'd lost forever in another, the young man battling through challenge after challenge and never faltering. The way he'd hug Sirius without shame, his shy smile when he got something right and the way mischief would glitter in those sparkling emerald eyes just like his mothers. I remember his courage, his intelligence, his selflessness and his sacrifices. All the memories I can find. The boy we love, the boy we need to save. That is what I need. That is what I require.

But somehow the images change without warning and I'm not the one in charge of what memories I'm seeing anymore. I just about keep a grip on the waves of emotion I'm casting but not without significant difficulty. Suddenly I'm seeing a small child huddled and crying in the darkness of what looks like a closet, bruises on his face and terror in those emerald eyes. I'm seeing that same young adult I pictured being pushed and hurt by someone four times his size, unable to do anything about it. I'm seeing the teenager watching Sirius fall through that veil and the complete grief and despair that comes with it, the guilt and the pain that overwhelmed him. I watch as he cuts lies into his own hand whilst I turn him away. I see tears rolling down a teenagers face as he sits alone in a bathroom contemplating a blade in silence. I see how he closes his eyes as he picks up and puts it against the pale skin and almost lovingly pulls it across. I can see the loneliness, the fear, the pain and the isolation. This is the boy that I never saw, this is the child I didn't help, the teenager I failed. I'm gasping for air but I repel the memories backwards. I understand. It kills me but I understand. I understand why he felt he had nothing to live for, why he couldn't cope anymore, why life didn't seem worth it. Death was easier. Death was peace. But I can't let that stop me.

I'm broken and I'm shattered and I can't be the saviour Dumbledore needs. I can't do it. I can't even save myself.

I regain my balance and open my soul; my love and my fear, my protectiveness and my desire to change things and spread it wide not knowing if it is enough, if it will work, not knowing if I stand a chance. But I have to try. I can't let him die. And then without warning the door slams open and my magic drops as if it never existed leaving me disorientated and breathless but I catch a last parting hint of something I can't quite name. Almost expectant. The rush through the door is astounding; Cora really did get everyone she thought might be helpful. St. Mungo's workers stream through the door, Albus is not far behind looking so much older and wearier than I have ever seen him which is quite impressive at his age. I don't know how long they've been standing outside that door but being on the other side not knowing whether you were already too late and having to just wait must have been one of the hardest experiences of Albus' long life. Despite everything I know he loves the boy dearly and this will have hit him hard. He starts towards me but is interrupted by a high pitched shout behind him.

"Mistress did it! Mistress did it!" a small form shoots past the group assembled to keep gawkers away from the scene without effort and I'm almost knocked over as it barrels into my knees, clutching on tightly. "Mistress saved Dobby's Harry! Mistress did it!"

I look down in complete bewilderment as the elf with the tea cosy on its head attaches itself to my knees with an oddly strong grip for something so small. Tears are streaming down its face gracelessly and I can feel the entirety of the small form shuddering violently against my knees. I look over at Albus for suggestion but his attention has been caught by the frighteningly small and pale form of Harry being magicked onto a stretcher as the medics bustle around him authoritively. Severus has to be forcibly propelled away from the boy, so unwilling is he to stop his routine of chest compressions for even a fraction of a second. He stands looking completely lost for a moment before collapsing next to the bath with his head in his hands and I can see his violent tremors from here. We almost lost him. We might still lose him. That seems to be the thoughts resounding through everyone's mind.

I watch stunned as they move the boy out the room . Harry. One of mine. So white, so small, so…peaceful looking. It's frightening when I realise I haven't seen him look so relaxed and at peace for such a long time, possibly even years. I've seen him studious, angry, worried, terrified, heart-broken and grieving but I haven't seen him look so relaxed in such a long time I barely recognise the expression on his face. That alone says more about me than I like to contemplate.

"You saved Dobby's friend, Harry Potter. Dobby's friend!" The small creature still attached to my legs has progressed into full on hysterical sobbing and is shaking so hard I fear it might fall over. Clearly the other elf had told him exactly what state Harry was in when she found him. I do the only thing I can think of. I kneel down and put my arms around the small creature, very much aware of how much I'm shaking as well. It freezes up for a moment before collapsing in hysterics. "The Professor touched Dobby. The Professor hugs Dobby. Dobby does not deserve…Dobby is…"

Kneeling down fully by the quivering creature attached to my I tighten my grip on the hysterical elf. Then I do something I would never have imagined myself doing, even in my wildest dreams. I put a single finger under his chin, gently forcing it up to look at me and I meet those large, wet, green eyes.

"No Dobby," I say softly. "You saved Mister Potter today, not me." His eyes glaze up again and I tighten my hold on the trembling creature further. "Had it not been you and all the rest of the elves we would have stood no chance of finding Mister Potter until it was far too late. As it is we're not certain that we were successful, but without your help it would have been a completely futile effort. We would have lost Harry forever and it is only due to your quick reactions and assistance that we didn't. I can honestly say that we cannot thank you enough."

That appears to be the final straw for the poor thing and he breaks free of my grip violently to fling himself sobbing onto the floor. I sink gratefully to the ground as well suddenly aware of how fast my heart is beating and how erratically; Potter has given me many occasions for near heart attacks over the years but I do believe he's exceeded himself this time. Even vanishing to have a stand-off with a basilisk can't compete with how I feel at this moment. In fact I'd take two basilisks, an escaped mass-murderer and a dragon at the same time over how I feel now. Tears roll down my cheeks and I find myself sobbing as I clutch my chest; Minerva McGonagall crying in company? Now that's about as unusual as Severus laughing.

I love you. Please don't hate me.

How could I ever hate him? My wonderful, fool-hardy, brash and brilliant Gryffindor who has put more years on my life than any of the other students combined. The boy who killed a basilisk, who saved a man everyone thought was evil, who rushed into battle regardless of the danger because he truly believed someone he loved was in danger. How could I hate him? So many times over the years I could have shaken him until I heard his brains rattle but I could never hate him. Not the boy who still remembered to bring Cedric's body back despite being in a battle for his life, not the child who knocked out a twelve foot mountain troll simply because another student was in danger. Another student he didn't even like at the time. How could I hate a child with such a wonderful, sweet soul? How could I have lost him?

"How are you holding up, Minerva?"

I look up to find the kindly gaze of Filius looking down on me in obvious concern but I can't find any words to answer him so simply shake my head mutely.

"Potter's in the best of hands now," he says reassuringly sitting on the ground beside me and resting a hand gently on my shoulder. "There's nothing more you can do."

"We nearly lost him," I choke out with difficulty. "We might still lose him." I can barely breathe as the realisation once again comes crashing down on me. "Filius, we might still lose him."

Fear tightens in my chest like a binding spell and I find I can barely breathe past it. We've had attempted suicides or averted suicides before of course but not like this; not so premeditated and so abrupt. Not so near successful. Because without a shadow of a doubt if the kids hadn't found that note so early, if Weasley hadn't thought up that house elf idea or if we'd been just half an hour later we'd have found a dead body with no chance at all of reviving him. He meant to be successful. He really meant to kill himself. That thought in itself is seriously shocking; that a sixteen year old boy in my care was that desperate, that alone and that desperate that he made the conscious decision to end his life. He didn't come to me for help; he didn't trust me to do anything. He took it into his own hands. And it must have been a real need for this room to provide for him; the Room of Requirement. It becomes what you need. And he needed an escape. He wanted out. For a sixteen year old to choose that? How did I not see the signs?

I realise Filius has left me and look around vaguely for him then realise he's speaking with one of the medics. He comes back with a vial which he pushes into my unresisting hands.

"Drink this Minerva, it'll help." He watches me as I down the potion without hesitation or even a single thought process. Almost immediately I feel my chest start to loosen and my breathing even out. Calming Draught and a pretty potent one by the feel of it. I sag against Filius' shoulder as I feel my mind go blissfully clear and I vaguely note another healer pouring a similar concoction down Severus' throat. He looks up briefly and I can see the deep sense of shame and loss in those dark eyes without looking too closely. If we lose Potter today I will not be the only one it destroys. Despite his words, Severus has sacrificed much for that boy.

"Right," Filius says forcefully when he sees the potion take full effect. "Up you get. I'll get you down to the Hospital Wing; you're in no fit state to go back to your quarters now."

I don't even bother complaining. At least in the Hospital Wing I'll be able to grab some Dreamless Sleep. If there's one thing I don't want to do tonight it's dream. I don't think the white face and blood everywhere will leave my mind for a long, long time to come.

"We may have to banish some children back to their dormitories though," Filius says almost conversationally as I stand unsteadily and start to move towards the doorway. "Apparently when Mister Weasley told that Dobby elf we needed to search every room in the castle, he took it literally." He chuckles lightly but there's a sad look in his eyes that gives the lie to the mirth. "From what I can gather elves were chucking students out of beds to ensure Mister Potter wasn't hiding under them."

Albus stops us just by the doorway.

"Minerva, what…" he starts to ask.

Filius interrupts firmly before he can get any further.

"Not now, Albus," he looks directly up at the old wizard who looks so weary as to be decrepit. "A shock has been had by all. Severus, Minerva and Poppy will be taken to the Hospital Wing. Any questions can wait till tomorrow."

"But…"

"No buts, Albus," his tone brooks no arguments, not even from Albus. "Now is not the time. Excuse us."

Filius is correct, he has to send several students out of bed to find out what the emergency was packing back to their dormitories with stern words, but he takes no points. I don't think any of us have the heart for that now. He gently steers me towards one of the Hospital Wing beds and looks at me with such compassion I almost find myself crying again.

"You did everything you could, Minerva," he says gently. "And if you hadn't got that door open somehow, there is no doubt what the outcome would have been in anyone's mind." He smiles sadly. "You are going to have to tell me how you did that you know. But just remember; you, Severus and Poppy are the only reason that boy still has a chance at life."

So why does it feel like there's a hole in my chest that won't go away?