It was an excruciating walk to the hospital wing, through the dark corridors still bearing signs of the recent battle. Even with one arm around Ron's neck, it was excruciating to put any weight on his injured leg. And Hermione's steady stream of chatter wasn't exactly helping his aching head.

'Who was she, though?' she was saying as she led the way in front of Ron and Harry, her wand-tip illuminating the corridor ahead. 'A daughter of one of the Death Eaters? She had to be someone important – why were they trying to make her kill you?'

'No idea,' Harry muttered between gritted teeth, as a particularly painful jab shot through his leg. But his mind, too, was working fast, trying to figure out who the girl could possibly be – and why it was so important that she kill him. He couldn't help but remember how Snape had urged Malfoy to kill Dumbledore that night a year ago. 'I think McGonagall knows, though,' he added. 'Just the way she looked at her…'

'It's strange, all right,' said Ron, huffing and puffing a bit under Harry's weight. 'But I don't suppose McGonagall will tell us who she is, she never tells anyone anything…'

When at last they reached the hospital wing and pushed open the door, the long ward was dark, although shafts of moonlight fell through the windows to the floor here and there. By the single light of a burning lamp, they could see the silhouette of Madam Pomfrey bending over a bed at the end of the room.

All of the beds were full – in fact, Harry couldn't remember there ever being so many beds in here before, yet they were in no way packed tightly together. As he, Ron and Hermione began to make their way up the ward he kept his eyes down, not wanting to see the injuries of the patients, injuries that he was responsible for.

A voice suddenly whispered out of the darkness. 'Ron? Is that you?'

Ron's eyes widened, and he glanced towards Hermione in an anxious way. 'It's Lavender,' he said under his breath. 'I should…'

Hermione's lips tightened almost imperceptibly, but she nodded at once.

'Back in a sec,' said Ron, moving over to Lavender's bedside, and Hermione slipped an arm around Harry's waist now that Ron wasn't there to support him.

The walk up between the rows of bed seemed much, much longer than Harry remembered. A charm must have been put on the ward to make it bigger – An Undetectable…Something…Charm, he thought, sure that he knew the proper term for it, but it somehow escaped him in his current disoriented frame of mind.

Madam Pomfrey hurried towards them as they approached, holding the lamp up. 'Potter?' she whispered, thrusting the lamp right into his face so that he squinted in its glare. 'How did you get into this state?'

'Some Death Eaters came through the wall, Madam Pomfrey,' said Hermione clearly. 'It's OK, they've been caught,' she added as the matron gasped. 'Several stones hit Harry, but I don't think it's anything to worry about…'

'Well, we'll just see about that,' said Madam Pomfrey, dragging Harry towards an empty bed that hadn't been there a moment ago, and pushed him roughly onto it. 'The number of times I've had you in here, Potter…nearly every year, I believe! You're of age and you've left the school, and nothing has changed…' She poked at the wound on Harry's head with her wand and muttered something under her breath. The cut burned, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He felt her do the same thing to his leg. When he opened his eyes he saw her waving her wand and muttering under her breath, causing bandages to appear on both wounds.

'Drink this,' she said brusquely, shoving a goblet of potion at him. 'If you're feeling dizzy it should help. And then you'll sit there, and not move an inch!'

She bustled off, and Harry downed the potion in one.

'Urgh,' he said, making a face and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 'Why can't any of this stuff ever taste good?' But already his head was clearing, and Hermione's face moved into sharper focus. She wrung out a cloth in a basin of water on the bedside table and began to clean the blood off Harry's face.

She didn't speak, and her face was pinched in concern. 'Hey,' said Harry, 'it's OK. I feel fine now.'

'I know,' she said, managing to smile at him. She took off his glasses and handed them to him so that she could clean his face better. 'It's just…oh, Harry.' Her hand dropped to her side and she sank onto the bed beside Harry. 'I thought it was over. When does it end?' She looked like she was going to burst into tears.

Harry hastily put an arm around her shoulders. 'It is over,' he told her firmly. 'It was just some Death Eaters who they didn't catch. That's all.'

'But, Harry,' whispered Hermione, her eyes large in the darkness, 'they were going after you. They'll be going after you as long as you live.'

Harry's heart sank like a stone; his stomach felt like it had been filled with lead. Numbly, he let his arm drop from Hermione's shoulders. She noticed, and immediately seized his hand. 'Harry, Harry, I didn't mean – I didn't…' She gripped his fingers tightly when he didn't immediately respond, only stared blankly at her. The tears were spilling onto Hermione's cheeks now. 'I'm sorry, Harry,' she said with a broken sob. 'I'm just – I'm so tired…'

The sight of her curling into herself in misery startled Harry out of his stupor. Tentatively, he put his arms around Hermione and she leaned into him, now sobbing uncontrollably.

There were sudden hurried footsteps and then Ron was there. 'Hermione!' he said urgently. 'What's wrong? Are you all right?'

He flopped down onto the bed beside Hermione; she pulled away from Harry and launched herself into Ron's arms, crying as though she'd never stop. Ron looked at Harry with wide eyes over the top of her head, but Harry only shrugged at him. A new sensation had hit him when he saw the two of them hugging, Harry left on the sidelines once again.

'I – I'm sorry,' sniffed Hermione, sitting up again. She wiped at her eyes, gulping. 'D-don't mind me. I'm not sad, really, I'm not – '

'What's going on over here?'

Madam Pomfrey was looking most disapproving. 'I know we've all had a rough time, Miss Granger, but really, I can't have you in hysterics in a hospital ward at this time of night. I can give you something to help you sleep, if you like – '

'No, no,' said Hermione, now hiccupping slightly, 'that's all right. We should be going now, anyway…'

Harry, Ron and Hermione all rose from the bed, but Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at Harry's chest in a threatening manner.

'Not you,' she said sternly. 'I'm keeping you here overnight.'

'What?' said Harry in dismay. 'But I feel fine!'

'I want to keep an eye on you,' she said, fixing him with a steely stare. 'That's an order, Potter, and one I expect you to follow. Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, I think it's best if you leave. It's very late.'

She pushed a pair of pyjamas into Harry's arms and made shooing motions at Ron and Hermione.

'We're going!' said Ron quickly, waggling his eyebrows at Harry. 'Harry, mate – see you in the morning. We'll tell Ginny you're all right.'

'Goodnight, Harry,' Hermione said to him for the second time that night, still dabbing at her eyes, and the two of them departed.

Only a few minutes after they had left, and Harry had reluctantly pulled on the pyjamas and gotten into bed, had the door to the hospital wing swung open and Professors McGonagall and Slughorn entered. Slughorn was carrying a limp figure in his gigantic arms, and was panting and sweating profusely as they made their way up towards the end of the hospital wing where Harry lay. Harry's breath caught when he realised that they were carrying the girl, and he quickly raised his head slightly, the scene slightly blurred as he didn't dare to reach for his glasses and give himself away.

No one was looking over at Harry, however; their attention was all on the girl as Slughorn lowered her onto a bed. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were conversing in low voices.

' – don't understand, Minerva. Who is she?'

Professor McGonagall was silent for a few moments. 'Someone important,' she said finally. 'Someone whose existence I found it hard to believe in, even though it was on the word of Dumbledore…he even had a photograph.'

'I must say, this is all very mysterious…'

'I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore, Poppy. But what to do? I can only hope Kingsley Shacklebolt has a better idea than I do – when he gets here, that is. I can hardly believe it – and then there's Potter…'

The two of them glanced over at Harry, and he quickly shut his eyes, glad of the darkness.

'I really don't understand what you're saying.'

'I'm sorry, but I absolutely can't tell you anything about this. Only a few people know of the existence of this girl…it's quite astonishing…Anyway,' Professor McGonagall's tone suddenly became much more business-like, 'I think she was hit by two Stunning Spells, and I thought maybe you should check her over.'

'Well, let me see…' There was a few minutes' silence. 'Ah, yes,' Madam Pomfrey eventually mused, 'yes…but she'll be fine, Minerva, quite all right.'

'That's a relief, I suppose…or perhaps not.' McGonagall's tone was dark. 'I have to go and meet Kingsley Shacklebolt now, Poppy, and we'll both have to speak to her. When do you think she'll wake up?'

'I daresay in a couple of hours.'

'We'll come up here, soon enough, then…we have to decide how best to deal with this situation…' Their voices faded and then disappeared all together as they walked towards the door; a minute later Madam Pomfrey came hurrying back up the hospital wing. She disappeared behind her office door and there was silence.

Harry didn't know when she'd come out again; he only had one chance. Flinging back the covers, he leaped out of bed and stumbled to the girl's bedside. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up and leaned down to study her.

Her face held every bit of that delicate, pristine beauty he'd remembered from that brief, dizzy look in Gryffindor Tower. Hardly daring to breathe, he took in every detail of her face: her high cheekbones, dark brows, pale skin…

Harry frowned. There was something naggingly familiar about her…and not in a good way, he suspected. But try as he might, he just couldn't put his finger on who exactly it was she so resembled…

There was a noise from Madam Pomfrey's office and he slipped back to his bed and under the covers. The nurse didn't emerge but he kept lifting his head to look at the dark form of the girl. His last thoughts before he slipped into sleep were of her and who she might possibly be.

The next morning, as bright sunlight flooded the hospital wing, the first thing he did when he woke up was look over at the girl. But she was gone, her bed empty and neatly made, as if she'd never been there.