(Author's Notes: I would first of all like to apologize for the ridiculously long wait between chapters... I think I just needed to find my muse again. I've completed up till Chapter Fifteen and I want to keep this updated al least twice a week, all the way to the bitter end. For anyone still reading this... Thank you. -Matt Rios
ChapterEight... Innocent
I leaned heavily against Prof. McGonagall as we treaded down the hallway. When Dumbledore had... stopped Ginny, the burning in my scar receded to a mild tingle. My thoughts were clearing, but the rest of my body had yet to catch up. It felt as though I had been deprived of sleep for several months. My hands were the worst - the palms were an angry, inflamed red and tiny blisters were forming at the edges.
"Where are we going, Professor?" One of the first-years asked.
"We will head to Dumbledore's office and wait there for his return." Prof. McGonagall answered, but her mind seemed elsewhere.
"What was that... monster?"
Prof. McGonagall was silent.
The golden phoenix that guarded the Headmaster's office stood nobly and proud in its doorway, and we paused at its threshold. Cho reached for my other arm and McGonagall passed me over to Cho while she recited the password, 'Almond Hershey.' With its activation, the phoenix began to rise and the stone floor below it molded into an ascending stairway. With a bit of effort, Cho and I climbed the stairwell ahead of the first-years and Prof. McGonagall and entered the door at the peak.
Dumbledore's office was a small cathedral of paintings and sculptures, all engaged in furious chatter, with a row of the Headmasters of the past lining eye level. The tables and shelves were littered with various silver mechanisms that ticked and whirred in their own languages, and his desk itself presided over the lower atrium. Madam Pomfrey was pacing nervously on the higher level above the desk, her heels clicking as she turned.
"Poppy! Were here!" Prof. McGonagall cried up into the greater atrium, "Harry needs your attention!"
Madam Pomfrey raced down a side stairway that I hadn't noticed and immediately began assessing my injuries.
"What happened?" she said, her economical hands feeling the bruises on my arms and tracing the contours of my palms.
"There was an attack... in the Gryffindor Common Room. Something attacked Mr. Potter and Ms. Chang, but Harry here seems to have gotten the worst of it."
Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue as she inspected my scar, "This looks bad... I can patch him up, but I suggest that we get him to St. Mungo's as quickly as possible."
"I'll be fine," I said, moving her hand off of my face. I walked over to the stairwell, favoring my right foot, before losing my balance and nearly falling down. I heard Madam Pomfrey give an exasperated sigh before sitting me on the second lowest step. She conjured an icepack for my head, pulled Cho over to me, and stuck it in her hand.
"Here," She said, "Hold this on his head while I try to think of what to brew for him."
I lay back against the steps as she turned and walked away. Cho carefully placed the icepack against my scar, to my great relief. Cool rivulets of condensation trailed down my face from the bag and it felt magnificent.
"You were brilliant, Harry," Cho whispered, adjusting the pack, "I can't believe that you were able to do that."
"Yeah, a great bloody hero I am," I said, "I couldn't even get close to her."
"Harry, you made fire come out of your hands. You saved the kids, you saved me... " She whispered, a tinge of rose in her ivory cheeks, "I think that you deserve some credit."
I looked down at my hands, which were still blistered and red, "I didn't think I could do that, it was a last resort."
Cho reached for my right hand and studied it with her fingers, "Well, at least you get to impress the girls with your battle scars."
Scars.
"I've already got my fair share of scars," I said jokingly, and my side twitched in pain, "I reckon I'll end up looking like Professor Moody before my seventh year is out."
Cho gazed at the jagged, lightning bolt scar on his forehead, and I continued on, "Well, the one on my forehead isn't all - on the side of my head is a small one where I got nicked by the Whomping Willow in my second year, and I have a pretty good one on my right arm..."
I continued: the puncture wound on my right arm where the Basilisk had bitten me, and how it came to be; a scratch on my left cheek from the Shrieking Shack; a thin, white line on my shoulder where the Hungarian Horntail had flailed her tail at me - each one from a different year, each one a different story. I finally reached the last one when Cho finally looked away from me. She wiped something off of her face with the collar of her blouse, and her hands were shaking.
"So, each one has a story, each one has a friend," She said, her voice cracking, "but what about the scars that you dont see?"
"What do you mean?"
Cho turned to face me, adjusting the icepack as she spoke, "Was that... thing Ginny Weasley?"
My blood froze, and I looked right into Cho's dark eyes, pools of ink in which I could see my distorted reflection. They shimmered with flinty determination and intelligence, and had none of the manic spark that fueled Ginny's gaze for those few, horrific moments, none of the almost predatory hunger inside of them. Tears began to form at the corners of my eyes.
"Yes." I answered, feeling completely and utterly drained, "Yes, it was."
Cho removed the icepack to freeze it again, her face blank, "Oh my god... how did she... I mean, I thought she had died. In an accident."
"Yes... she did."
The Great Hall was bustling when Harry had emerged from the hospital wing. It was an ordinary dinner to most of them, with the glaring exception of the teachers at the Head Table. Without them, the Hall had descended into utter chaos. The Slytherins were chanting and hawking at a few Gryffindors, who retaliated in various, creative ways. Fred and George had the attention of the others, and were standing at the head of the Gryffindor Table. They demonstrated their latest products, as well as their old stand-bys, like canary creams, and ton-tongue toffees. Most of the Ravenclaws were in the middle of conversations, and Harry barely noticed Cho, who sat alone near the end of their table. He approached Ron, who seemed to be sharing an especially funny joke to Seamus Finnigan, and Hermione was absorbed her volume of Caring For Thestrals: When To Love And When To Hide. When she caught sight of Harry, she smiled cautiously, and Harry could already feel fresh tears forming. Her face fell as he came closer... when she saw no Ginny behind him. Harry had earlier passed out in the hallway, raving about the forest. Neither Ron, nor Hermione had been allowed to visit him, so this was the first time they had seen him since the storm hit.
Harry walked past the Slytherin table to get to his seat next to Hermione and Ron, and Draco Malfoy turned in his chair to face him.
"Hello, Potter," He said in his snarky, sardonic tone, "Where have you..."
Harry glared down at him, and something in Harry's eyes caused Malfoy to cease. He looked at Harry strangely before regressing to his seat. Harry sat down in between Hermione and Ron, and immediately put his head down.
"Harry," Hermione gently shook Harrys shoulder, "Wheres Ginny? Did you find h-"
There was the gentle sound of crystal in the Hall, and the students voices stopped their conversations. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was alone at the Head Table, and he tapped his goblet with a golden knife.
"May I have your attention, please?" Dumbledore's voice was calm, but it lacked its usual mirth. Dumbledore himself looked as if hed had the wind knocked out of him, "There is something... important that must be said today."
Hermione's hands rubbed Harry's shoulders, and she felt him shake beneath her fingers.
"Just after lunch today, as you all know, a storm hit the Hogwarts campus, as well as the surrounding forests. A... student was outdoors when it happened, and another student took it upon himself to rescue the other. Due to the severity of the storm, the student lost her way back the castle and had entered the Forbidden Forest. The other student had the foresight to realize this, and he ventured after her. After a long, hard trek, he found the first student, alone, on the mouth of the gorge that separates us from the rest of England. He rescued her, but there was an accident, and she fell off the mouth."
He cleared his throat before continuing, "That student was Ginevra Weasley."
What little noise there had been suddenly ceased. The silence weighed down upon the room, and Ron simply stood there, his mouth agape. Fred and George had no expression on their faces, and they leaned into one another for support. Hermione was the first to start crying, and Harry took her in his arms, the tears freely flowing now. This wasn't passion, but utter grief, and they cried into each other as Ron broke down next to them. The Gryffindor table had burst into tears, and the other students, no matter the house, got up from their seats and came to comfort their companions. Ron's long arms encircled both Harry and Hermione as best as they could, and Fred and George joined them. In the center of it, Harry cried out, "I'm sorry, Im sorry!" to Hermione, and she raised her red, tear-streaked face to try and console him, alternating between kissing his face and crying the words, "Its okay, its okay," into his shoulder, only half-believing it herself. Ron's cries of anguish were muffled by Harry's shoulders. They stayed there, huddled together, yet alone, for as long as the light lasted that night, and well into the morning after...
"How are you sure she actually died?" Cho's words were frantic, as if her life depended upon solving this problem, "How do we know that Dumbledore didn't make that up?"
"Dumbledore didn't make it up!" I almost screamed, and the pain in my side made me remember my limits.
"How do you know!"
"Because I was there when she died! I saw her fall..."
Cho stopped talking, and her eyes glazed over, "Y-you? You were there. Then the girl, the girl you talked about was..."
Madam Pomfrey came over, a bowl of orange paste in her arms, "Now, lets see if we can't get those burns taken care of."
She spread the paste as delicately as she could, and I felt almost instant relief permeate through my palms. The paste was also applied to my forehead, and I could feel my thoughts run more clearly as the pain was alleviated. I felt a slight tingling in my side, and then I could breathe without feeling as though I was being stabbed.
"That takes care of your superficial injuries, but I strongly suggest that we take you to St. Mungo's as soon as Dumbledore returns- "
Boom!
A thunderclap echoed within Dumbledore's observatory, and the door from which we entered shook in its hinges. A fine curtain of dust flowed down from the ceiling, and I stood up. My lightheadedness had dissipated somewhat, but it was still there. Either way, I didn't care, and I readied myself for whatever came through the door. The first-years ran upstairs to Dumbledore's private library, as Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Cho drew their wands and stood before me.
But I wasn't going to sit by this time, no matter the injury. I walked forward and took my place between Madam Pomfrey and Cho as another earth-shattering Boom! rocked the office. There was a sharp, metallic moaning, that reverberated sickeningly in the hollow, and then silence.
Then the golden phoenix from downstairs tore the office door from its hinges, its shimmering head ripping the stone threshold apart. It sank against the stone floor with a musical bong and the room was quiet. McGonagall's eyes widened as she saw the base to the Phoenix was missing. The golden bird had been torn in half. The sound of clicking boots rang loudly in the gutted room, and a figure shrouded in black deftly stepped around the rubble. His hair was spiked and his spectacles shimmered redly in the light.
"Well," his voice was velvet as it was whispered through violet lips. It was difficult to tell because of the glasses, but I knew that this... thing was staring at me with the same predatory hunger I had seen in Ginny's gaze, "You must be the famous Harry Potter."
He gazed around the room, eyeing each person, "What... delicious company you keep."
A low moan escaped his mouth, and a long, black, cable-thick tongue licked his lips, "And I think that I am going to eat you all."