Chapter 3: Enter Professor Harte

For a second Harry didn't know where he was. He opened his eyes and stared at the scene around him, struggling to take it in. It was like his thoughts were wading through treacle. There was a ringing in his ears, and a million miles away some one was shouting his name.

"George?"

"Harry, get off me!"

Harry looked down and realised he was still lying on top of George. He pushed himself up, still gripping tightly to his wand. He looked around the room blearily, trying to understand through the pounding in his head, what was going on. And then he remembered.

"Ginny!"

He threw his wand to the ground and scrambled forward to the mountain of broken bricks and burning wood, desperately trying to see his girlfriend, searching for any indication that she was alive. But as soon as he reach the rubble, a wand appeared in his line of vision, pointing down at him.

He looked up slowly. He stared past the wand, inches from his face, to the hand holding it, and took in the man standing on the broken remains of the wall, smiling gleefully, victoriously, at Harry.

"It worked." whispered Rodolphus Lestrange. "He said it would work but it didn't seem possible..."

A wide grin grew across his pale drawn face, sweat rolling off his forehead. His eyes were wide and his swollen pupils nearly completely blocked out the thin grey ring of his iris. With a sinking feeling, Harry realised that those were the eyes of a man who was quite insane. "And now I get to make you pay, Potter. I can avenge my master, my brother... my wife."

He walked closer and closer into the room and Harry stumbled backwards, staring at the wand the whole time. He could hear George's quick sharp breaths, thunderously loud in his sensitive ears. Mr Weasley was stirring behind him and somewhere in the distance he could hear shouting.

"Now..." Drawled Lestrange. "Who should I kill first? How 'bout your little mudblood friend, hmm? Where is she Potter? Maybe if you find her for me I'll let the blood traitors live. No? Surely I can persuade you. Cruccio!"

Harry anticipated the curse, and simply hoped that it would throw him far enough backwards that he could reach his wand, but all plans left his mind when the curse hit him.

Because Harry died.

Harry was dead. He had to be, for no person alive could feel this pain and live. His body was on fire, every drop of blood turned to acid. It was worse than when Voldemort returned and he had felt his very soul would rip apart, more painful than any torture curse used on him before. It was like someone had cataloged every time he had been hurt, added it all together then multiplied it.

And then it stopped.

Gasping Harry tried to look up at Lestrange, but found that he could barely move. His whole body was spasimming uncontrollably.

"Bad isn't it, Potter? You have no idea the power I have been granted. I am going to torture you until your mind breaks, like I did to the Longbottoms. But first I'm going to kill your friends."

Harry got enough control over his body to look up at him, and watch as he pointed his wand at George, liking his lips in anticipation, eager for the kill. Harry could see his own wand. He tried desperately to reach it, but his arms were shaking too much and he couldn't even get his fingers to close into a fist.

With a terrible anticipation welling inside of him, Harry watch Lestrange form the words that would reunite George with his twin.

"Avada..."

He stopped speaking mid curse, his mouth lolling open. Lestrange swayed on the spot, staring past George, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he slowly toppled to the floor.

Harry blinked, trying to make out the silhouette standing in the gaping hole where the wall used to be, blocking out the fading light of the setting sun. As she stepped into the room, a bloody brick held aloft in her hand, Harry realized it was the muggle Charlie had tried to chat up at the funeral.

She dropped the brick and rushed forward to Harry. As she loomed down over his face, slightly blurred by the tears in his eyes, he thought that he had underestimated her beauty that morning, her eyes seemed to be all Harry could see in the world.

"Are you alright! Where does it hurt?"

Harry tried to push her off him, desperate to reach Ginny, to make sure she was all right, but he couldn't get his mouth to work. "Gin... Ginny... Help... Her... There..."

He managed to point a shaking arm at the pile of rubble, and as the young woman followed his finger, her face drained of what little color she had.

"Someone is under that!? Dear Gods..."

And at last she left him alone to fall at the pile of rubble, hands pulling at burning pieces of wood and unbelievably huge jagged stones with an insane strength, trying to dig through.

Finally Harry managed to grip his wand and after a few attempts, muttered the words "Wingardium Leviosa".

If the muggle woman found it surprising that the rubble suddenly floated off the ground by its own accord, revealing Ginny's limp and lifeless form by the broken remains of the sofa, she didn't show it. Leaning forward she dragged Ginny out from under the suspended debris and pulled her across to where Harry lay. Harry barely managed to hold the spell long enough for George to rescue Hermione.

Then falling back, he allowed the spell to break and the rubble to crash back to the floor.

Harry rolled over to see the woman leaning over Ginny, listening to her chest.

"I need to... St Mungo's... I have to..."

"You're in no fit state to disapparate anywhere!" she snapped, not taking her eyes off Ginny.

Harry tried again to pull Ginny into his arms, desperate to get her to some healers, but the woman, who obviously wasn't a muggle, pushed him away.

She fixed him a hard stare with those blue blue eyes, the color of the sky before dawn.

"If you want me to help her, then you need to leave her be!" she snapped at him, and the force in her voice, added with Harry's inexplicable urge to trust those eyes, pushed him back.

Lying Ginny flat on the floor the woman stretched her hands over the air above Ginny's chest. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and, as she closed her eyes, she let it out again, slowly.

A warm glow started to leak from her hands, like when the light spills over the horizon as the sun rises. Her face, as beautiful up close as she had been afar, was thrown into stark relief. Harry realized that she was a lot older than she seemed, the soft lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth betraying her years.

The glow from her hands spread over Ginny's body, growing from the patch of light on her chest, over her head, down towards her toes. Harry could see every detail of her dress. Could see the damp red patch on her side shrinking, as if the blood was flowing back into her body.

Ginny grew so bright that it seemed the light couldn't be contained within her. It started to trail across the floor, like vines growing at incredible speeds, reaching towards Harry's outstretched hand

As the glow got further and further up his body Harry could feel the deep ache in his bones, left from the overpowered Cruciatus Curse, ease and disappear.

His thoughts still sluggish, all Harry could think of was how wonderful it would be to become engulfed in that light, like Ginny.

The glow had spread over half of Harry's body by the time it started to retreat. It its wake the pain in the rest of his body seemed to flood back into the healed areas, though less intense than before. Harry watched fascinated as the light retreated back into Ginny, who now shone like an Angel.

With a loud crack that pierced Harry's scull like a nail driven by a mallet, Charlie, Mrs Weasley, Kingsley and Professor McGonagall apparated into the room.

McGonagall and Kingsley stared at the woman in shock.

"Emily," spluttered McGonagall, incredulously "What are you..."

But Kingsley shushed her.

They all watched as slowly the glow that had engulfed Ginny withdrew. Eventually only the woman's hands shone with that warm beautiful light, until they too stopped, and the woman called Emily sagged with exhaustion. She threw her trembling hands to the floor, trying to remain upright, as her shuddering breaths wracked her whole body, like a runner who had just completed a marathon.

Nothing happened. Ginny lay as lifeless on the floor as she had a moment ago, and as the silent seconds dragged on, each lasting a life time, Harry felt an awful dread creep up the back of his neck, chilling him to his core, stopping his lungs from taking a full breath.

"Ginny..." Mr Weasley chocked.

And then with a start, Ginny's whole body bent as she sucked in a rasping lungful of air. Harry, in a fit of mighty strength, dragged her into his arms as she coughed and spluttered, relief washing away all his pain.

"Ginny... Oh God I love you... I love you so much. I thought you were... I thought..."

But Harry didn't need to say anything more, as Mrs Weasley had thrown her arms around both of them, sobbing hysterically.

Another loud crack reminded Harry of his splitting headache, as Ron, Bill and Fluer apparated into the room.

Ron looked around in shock, before his eyes fell upon Hermione, who was lying with her head in Georges lap, and threw himself at her feet.

"Hermione! What happened? HERMIOINE?!"

"She's breathing." George croaked.

Mrs Weasley let go of Harry and Ginny to rush to her husband's side, who was trying to rise. Ginny clung to Harry as she shook, still coughing a little, and Harry buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, holding her as close to him as he could.

"Minister... Professor..."

Harry's head darted up. The woman, Emily, was still shaking with exhaustion and her voice sounded like an old woman's. McGonagall was crouching next to her, helping her get to her feet.

She raised her head, her dark hair falling across her beautiful face, now drawn and shadowed. "You need to get her," she nodded towards Hermione "to St. Mungo's... I... I don't think I have it in me to heal another."

Kingsley nodded and turned to walk towards Hermione, but Ron was already on his feet, Hermione in his arms.

"I'll meet you there." He said abruptly, before turning on the spot and disapparating.

Ginny's shaking was starting to slow, and her breathing was steadying, but she still clung to Harry's shirt desperately, like a drowning man clinging to a life vest. Harry pulled her closer to him, holding her to him with equal desperation.

Emily looked down at her in concern, despite the fact that she was now hanging onto Professor McGonagall for support. "She should probably get checked out too. I'll come talk to you later, once I've got someone to..."

"Oh no!" Interrupted McGonagall, "You're going as well. You could have killed yourself attempting a healing by yourself like that!"

"Minerva..."

"No Emily." This time it was Kingsley that spoke. He stepped forward and put his arm around her waist, pulling one of her arms over his shoulders, her feet nearly leaving the floor.

"You're going." and then he too turned on the spot, disapparating.

Mrs Weasley, Bill and Fleur left with Mr Weasley, all three of them helping him to stay upright.

Once it was only Charlie, Harry, Ginny and Professor McGonagall left in the room, the latter turned to give Charlie a pointed look.

"Mr Weasley. I am relying on you to make sure these two make it to St Mungo's. I would also like you to convince Mr Potter to let go of your sister long enough for him to have that head wound looked at."

She turned to look at the rubble in front of hole in the wall. "In the meantime, I am going to take care of this... thing."

McGonagall was glaring disdainfully at the limp form of Rudolph's Lestrange, half buried in the rubble Harry had levitated. Harry had completely forgotten about the Death Eater in the wake of Emily's entrance.

Harry kissed Ginny's forehead, gathered her in his arms and rose shakily to his feet, Ginny's legs draped over one arm, the other holding her to his chest. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his collarbone. It was the first reaction he had got out of her, and despite himself, he felt butterflies in his stomach as her lips brushed his skin.

"Professor?"

She raised her eyebrow at him, a wonderfully comforting familiar gesture. "Mr Potter?"

"Who was that woman?"

She snorted with amusement. "That, Mr Potter, was Hogwarts next Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. That was Emily Harte."

Short one I know! The next one should be longer I promise.

Reviews are better than chocolate.

Jo is God. xx