Note: Part two of today's update!
Note2: I have had to take some liberties with Nagini as she's a completely unique snake and her venom seems to have unique properties. After some research I've based her and her other venomous effects mainly on the king cobra, as she seems to fit in with its traits: they are the largest poisonous snakes in the world, they are a unique genus, they are unusually maternal and intelligent for snakes, and they have a tendency to mesmerise…
Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. I only did one first aid certificate for crying out loud, so I can resuscitate someone but that's it. I accept no responsibility whatsoever for the consequences of anyone using my methods of first aid…
Chapter Sixty-Two
Red and Green
"WELL KILL THE BLOODY THING THEN!"
The shout, flavoured with fear and desperation, rang in Harry's ears, jerking him back from the trancelike state that Nagini had held him in and depositing him in the real world with the blunt force of a rampaging elephant charging into him. He was suddenly assaulted on all sides by sound and sight but most importantly smell; the disgusting metallic smell of blood. He remembered now, remembered seeing the blur of Ron throwing himself between him and the snake, he remembered the fangs ready to bite, and finally he saw the scene in front of him. Nagini was latched onto Ron's arm, blood dribbling from the wound where her fangs still held fast in a thin red stream; his injury made worse by her thrashing tail, which Draco was attempting to hold still in order to give Harry a clear line of sight to attack with the sword. It was obvious that it was he who had yelled, but where had he come from?
There was no time to be wasted in contemplation, and Harry brought the point of Gryffindor's sword down into the diamond pattern on Nagini's back. Immediately the serpent let loose Ron's arm, an angry hiss that was eerily similar to a human scream echoing from her jaws. Harry struck again to make doubly sure, and the tar-like substance that he had come to associate with the destruction of a horcrux began to ebb sluggishly from the wounds, then from the spaces between her scales themselves until there was nothing left of the snake but a smoking puddle of dark magic residue.
"Harry…"
Harry let the sword fall to the ground and ran to Ron's side, where the blood was flowing faster now that Nagini's fangs were no longer acting as a barrier. His friend had gone a pale grey colour, he was shivering and cold perspiration was running down his face.
"It'll be alright, Ron," said Harry, although he had no idea how it could be alright. He had no idea where they were or indeed how they had got there, although he suspected that Draco's sudden appearance must have had something to do with it, and he suspected that it was Draco whose presence he had sensed in the trees before. Where in Merlin's name had he come from and why had he attempted to assist Harry, rather than hinder him? The Slytherin came over to the two friends and gingerly helped Harry put pressure on the wound in an attempt to staunch it.
"What are you doing?" asked Ron of Draco weakly.
"Trying to help," said Draco levelly.
"Why?"
"Because as much as I might hate you, I don't want you dying on me. Besides, I have good reason for hating the snake more than you. I saw you two come for her and decided it was best to just let you get on with it."
Ron's eyelids flickered, and Harry began to panic.
"Ron! Wake up! Don't die!"
Suddenly another voice entered the room and Harry finally became fully aware of his surroundings. Draco had brought them home, to his home at least. They were in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, a place that Harry had often visited in his dreams and thus recognised, and Draco's mother was absolutely furious. Harry wondered for a split second how they could explain precisely what had just happened and how they managed to end up there, but Ron's critical condition was far too important for such thoughts and he returned his attention to his friend, who was still hanging onto consciousness by a thread. Draco opened his mouth to explain as Mrs Malfoy threw herself onto floor beside them, but she ignored him, pulling out her wand and retrieving bandages and vials from nowhere.
"No no no! I am not having someone else succumb to that loathsome reptile tonight!" There was a hint of shaking hysteria in her voice but her hands were perfectly steady as she set the crepe to work winding itself around Ron's arm and measuring out doses. It was only at this point that Harry saw that the rug upon which they had landed was already covered in dark blood stains from a previous victim and he wondered grimly who else had died at Nagini's fangs.
"Where in Merlin's name is Severus when you need him?" she cried.
Dead, thought Harry numbly, remembering Voldemort's cruel message to Professor McGonagall. He looked across at Draco, who shook his head, although Harry could not divine the meaning of the action. Did it mean that Snape wasn't dead, or that they shouldn't tell his mother that he was? Whichever way the gesture was intended, Snape was not with them and could not be easily contacted, and Ron's condition did not appear to be improving. Mrs Malfoy flicked her wand and the bandage cut off, but the blood was already beginning to bloom red through the crepe. She uncorked one of the potion vials and poured its contents carefully into Ron's mouth; he spluttered slightly but swallowed weakly. His impromptu nurse's hands momentarily stilled their activity and began to shake violently. Her next words were spoken so softly that Harry almost did not catch them, but they did not inspire any courage in him.
"I can't do this… Where's Cam, Severus…"
"Mother," said Draco sharply, taking her shoulder in a firm grip. "Mum, it's not impossible. You know more than we do so you've got to take the lead here." He looked up at Harry for assistance and, Harry thought, encouragement. "We'll help but it's got to be quick!"
Harry nodded his agreement.
"What do we need to do?"
Mrs Malfoy closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Her venom is not like that of an ordinary snake; it prevents wounds from closing and increases heart rate to drain the body faster; the venom only kills if the blood loss doesn't. The potion will counteract the cardiac effects but not the blood loss and it is only a temporary measure… He's going into shock, we need to keep him awake."
Harry looked down at Ron's greying face; his eyes were still open although now and then his eyelids would flicker.
"Ron, can you hear me, you've got to stay awake," he said as Draco received further instructions from his mother.
"I'm awake, Harry," he said weakly, his voice halting between shallow breaths. "You did it, you know… Got them all… You go after You-Know-Who now… Finish it… Don't worry… about me…"
"You're going to be fine, Ron, if your dad can get through it, you can."
Harry only hoped that his words would ring true. He looked up at Draco's mother, who was now tying another bandage round the top of Ron's arm and over his wound. Draco had disappeared but returned a moment later with his arms full of blankets. Mrs Malfoy nodded, seeming to be calming down slightly.
"He would not have had a full dose of venom as she has already killed tonight; he was just unfortunate that she bit where she did, into a main vein."
This gave Harry a little hope, but not nearly enough. As he kept talking, kept encouraging Ron to remain awake, internally he was cursing himself. At the end of the previous year, when he had resolved to go on alone on his horcrux hunt, he had tried to persuade his friends not to accompany him for fears of their safety. Now, after all these months of safety, on the one occasion when they had stepped out into the danger that he had been expecting to face throughout his journey, the friend who had accompanied him had been attacked, injured, nearly killed… It was precisely what he had been wanting to prevent, and precisely what he had been so glad to avoid when they had made the ultimate decision to return to Hogwarts. The irony was biting; even more biting was the gratitude that he had felt when Ron had decided to accompany him beyond the boundaries.
"We should get him back to Hogwarts," said Draco. "Madame Pomfrey…"
Ron was still conscious, and his breathing seemed to be less laboured now. Whatever the potions were, they seemed to be having the required effect, but Harry and undoubtedly the others in the room were aware of time ticking away. Ron needed proper medical care that could not be provided on a drawing room rug, and in that moment, Hogwarts seemed to be the proper option. Madame Pomfrey could be counted upon to act first and ask questions later, and Harry felt too horribly drained from their latest awful adventure, despite the adrenaline still coursing through him, to try and explain anything to mediwitches and wizards unknown. He didn't even know how one contacted St Mungo's in an emergency.
"It'll all be all right, Ron," he reassured his friend, the words having little effect on his own mental turmoil. "We'll get you fixed."
Ron nodded as Mrs Malfoy tied off the second roll of crepe, and Harry heard the rush of green flames roaring into life in the grate beside them.
"Harry…"
Harry looked up to see Draco gesturing towards the fireplace, his expression asking for help even if he couldn't bring himself to do so in words. Harry could see his problem: Draco had been persona non grata at Hogwarts for a long time even before his summary desertion in March, when he had run out of the gates with Snape and Harry hot on his heels, never to be seen within the school's walls since. For him to suddenly arrive in the school in the middle of its lockdown claiming to require Madame Pomfrey's assistance immediately because Ron Weasley was injured in his drawing room…
Harry knew that he was going to have to make the journey to find the nurse, but at the same time, he did not want to leave Ron. His eyes returned to Ron's pale face.
"Go on…" his friend encouraged. "Sooner rather than… later…"
Harry stood, still uneasy with the thought of what might happen in his absence and his inability to fully trust Mrs Malfoy, and he and Draco stepped into the fireplace.
"Hogwarts, head's office."
The familiar disorientating sensation of Floo powder swept them up and flung them through the chimneys to their destination – no matter how many times he travelled in this manner Harry was certain that he would never get used to it – but they stopped short of their receiving grate, their path blocked.
"This isn't right," said Draco, tapping the invisible forcefield with his wand and being met with a shower of multicoloured sparks. "Even with the castle in lockdown, this fireplace should still be open. This isn't right…"
Harry could hear the panic rising in the other boy's voice, and a thought struck him that ignited a similar feeling in his own chest. As far as he could tell, Floo travel worked one way only; they could not simply go back the way that they had come now that they were here. They were trapped behind this fireplace, staring out into McGonagall's office but unable to reach it, unable to get through and get help, and with no way of letting anyone know their predicament. If this was part of Hogwarts' defences, then it was a cruelly clever one, leaving assailants with no way of escape. He thought of Ron, lying on the bloodstained rug, and he thought of Hermione, who had tried so desperately to talk them out of their escapade. His mind flitted frantically from one image to the next, the stuffy, smoke-choked air of the chimney place making him light-headed and irrational. He couldn't die here, so ignominiously, with only his oldest enemy for company. What a way to go…
"Help!" Draco yelled, another shower of sparks erupting from their unknowable barrier, although quite what he hoped to achieve with this was beyond Harry in that moment. Surely no-one would hear them? The entire school was cloistered away against the threat baying at the gates, they were stuck, Ron was still bleeding…
"Oh good grief!"
Professor McGonagall's voice snapped Harry back into rational thought from his half-delusional downward spiral. He turned to see the headmistress peering into the fireplace with a look of utter disbelief on her face.
"How on Earth did you… Oh never mind, that's not important, we need to get you out of there."
"Professor, we need Madame Pomfrey," said Draco. "It's urgent."
The headmistress opened her mouth to speak, as if she was going to ask the fateful questions 'why?' and 'what's happened?' before appearing to think better of it. She took a step back and raised her wand, but she had no more luck than Draco in penetrating the shield. She raised her eyes heavenwards and gave a small groan of recognition.
"This is what they meant when they said that no-one could come in, friend or foe."
"Professor!" Draco's tone held a note of exasperation. "Ron Weasley's been bitten by Nagini! We need Madame Pomfrey or Snape!"
The few words were all it took to galvanise Professor McGonagall back into action. She cast a patronus, spoke a low message to it and watched it split itself into two identical copies and bound out of the door towards its intended recipients. A few moments later, Madame Pomfrey appeared, with Snape following a few seconds behind. Whilst Draco launched into an explanation of Ron's fragile state of health, Harry simply stared at the potions master with undisguised disbelief and wonder; this was the man that Voldemort had boasted dead only a few short minutes before they had left the castle grounds, here alive in front of them.
He remembered Mrs Malfoy's words and her hysteria, remembered the blood on the rug and Draco's new-found cause to hate Nagini, and the wildest of theories began to plant themselves in his head. He focused on the office and the people inside it to take his mind away from idle speculation. The three of them were standing in a huddle in the centre, their argument in tones inaudible but evidently vehement from the gestures and looks being passed between them. He could only catch the odd word – Ron, protection, shield, no defence, Voldemort… Finally Professor McGonagall's frustration broke free from constraint and she left the room at a run, her footsteps echoing on the stairs. Madame Pomfrey came over to the grate.
"We will need to bring Ron back to Hogwarts for treatment," she said. "Professor McGonagall has gone to lift the protections in place to open the fireplace once more." She paused, seeming to be speaking to herself rather than to them. "We had managed to invoke an old power to protect the castle against all comers, friend and foe. It has indeed delayed our foes, but I fear it can help us no longer. Nothing is infallible."
Harry felt it then, the magical disturbance that accompanied the lifting of the invisible block between him and Draco and the office, and they passed through the remnants of the protection and into the room; Harry could still feel the traces of the same heavy magic that he and Ron had flown through on their quest to destroy Nagini. As they fought their way through it, Professor McGonagall entered the room again from the door.
Their arrival heralded a frenzy of activity that Harry could not quite fit himself into, so he remained at one side, watching everything that was being done by people who had a far better idea of what to do than himself. Coming, going, people disappearing and reappearing, suddenly Hermione was there, then Ron was back with them, and Draco had vanished once more into the ether, and Harry had no idea whence they had come or where they were going, as if he was an observer in a dream, unable to participate. It was only now that the reality of what had just happened began to dawn on him through the worry for his best friend. The horcruxes were destroyed. All of them. Now that it was clear to him that Ron was in safe hands and there was nothing more for him to worry about at that present moment in time, the realisation made itself known. They'd done it, what he and Dumbledore had set out to do at the beginning of the previous year, the process that he himself had started back in the Chamber of Secrets years ago. Halfway to victory…
"Harry…"
Harry came back to himself to find Professor McGonagall looking at him. They were alone in the office again.
"Perhaps you could tell me what just happened."
The headmistress looked more tired and harried than she had done for the majority of the very wearing year, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her as he began his tale, keeping it short and to the point, offering no excuses or justifications for his behaviour, just the facts. Professor McGonagall didn't interrupt, but as his explanation continued, he could see her expression becoming increasingly sorrowful.
"Professor, all the horcruxes have been destroyed," he finished breathlessly. "There's only Voldemort left now."
Instead of looking pleased that he had succeeded in the mission that Dumbledore had appointed him, Professor McGonagall seemed to be graver than ever. She shook her head and indicated for Harry to stay where he was. Harry felt his heart beginning to beat in his mouth. What had he missed? What was wrong? He had destroyed the six horcruxes, hadn't he?
"Professor McGonagall, what's the matter?" he asked nervously as she opened the cupboard that housed the pensieve, pouring a single memory into it.
"I am not the right person to tell you that, Harry," she said, and Harry could see that she was trying very hard to maintain her composure and not break down into the tears that were threatening at the corners of her eyes. "Professor Dumbledore will explain everything. You have destroyed the six horcruxes, yes, but I am afraid that it is not as simple as that."
Professor McGonagall nodded towards the pensieve, and Harry took a step forward.
"Harry, you have achieved so much, and I am so very sorry that it has come to this," she said. "We should have told you sooner, but the time was never right, and now it is a worse time than ever but it can wait no longer. Good luck, Harry. We will try to buy you as much time as we can. Now that the castle's added protections are no longer in place I doubt it will be long before Voldemort realises and takes advantage."
She left the room and Harry looked up at the portrait of the headmaster that hung behind the desk. Dumbledore had returned from wherever he had been when they had entered the office to take the sword, and presently he nodded his grave agreement.
"Things will become clear, Harry."
With a terrible sense of foreboding, Harry dived into the pensieve, and whatever fate awaited him there.
Note3: *Kimmeth looks up from forcing Mr Karimloo into a box to post to her dear friend NCD.* See you next time folks! Stay tuned for death, destruction, Dawlish, inept wizards named Jim and witches wielding chair legs – that's right, we're back in the Ministry!