Chapter 2: Return to Hogwarts
Sirius staggered slightly when his feet hit the ground. The pungent smell of disinfectant assailed his nostrils as he dropped the quill and picked up his still unmoving godson.
"Poppy!" He yelled as he carried Harry toward the closest vacant bed. "Poppy!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Madam Pomfrey muttered as she came out of her office sounding rather inconvenienced. She stopped short as her eyes fell on Harry. "Lie him down on the bed Mr. Black."
"What do you think I'm – never mind." Sirius cut himself off as the matron began waving her wand over Harry in a series of complicated patterns; she summoned various potions, which she poured into his unresisting mouth, massaging his throat to encourage him to swallow. When she finally stepped back from the bed, Harry's robes had been transfigured into pajamas and the shallow cuts and abrasions were gone from his still-pale face.
"Why is he still unconscious?" Sirius asked a little brusquely.
The matron sent him a sharp glare. "I'm not a miracle worker, Mr. Black. He was hit with several powerful spells that I'm not familiar with. He seems to be in a type of coma."
He forced himself to take a deep breath as he perched himself on the straight-backed wooden chair beside the bed. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's message. "Albus says to expect more patients; they should be arriving soon."
"More?" Poppy repeated faintly. "What on earth happened?"
As he opened his mouth to explain, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks suddenly materialized in the room clinging to a scrap of parchment. Surrounding them in various states of ill health were Harry's friends. Ginny's face was pinched in pain and she was leaning heavily against Tonks. Neville's face was swollen almost to the point of being unrecognizable. The other two adults were holding up Ron and Hermione, the latter still unconscious. Only Luna seemed unaffected, having been revived by Remus several minutes earlier. She now stood peering around the room in interest as if she hoped to spot a Crumple-Horned Snorkack sunbathing by the large windows.
"Oh, dear. Get them in bed." The matron ordered, seemingly not noticing that those well enough to stand – with the exception of Luna – were already doing just this.
She bustled around the room, performing diagnosis spells and summoning vials of nasty-smelling liquids. She soon had the more serious injuries under control and moved on to mend Ginny's ankle and Neville's nose, muttering all the while about foolish schoolchildren who couldn't say out of trouble.
The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe. Through watering eyes he saw Sirius dueling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix - nobody seemed to realize that Harry was dying…
He turned his wand backwards towards the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping towards the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy -
"AARGH!"
Neville had come lunging out of nowhere; unable to articulate a spell, he had jabbed Hermione's wand hard into the eyehole of the Death Eaters mask. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain. Harry whirled around to face him and gasped: "STUPEFY!" The Death Eater keeled over backwards and his mask slipped off: it was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be killer, one of his eyes now swollen and bloodshot.
"Thanks!" Harry said to Neville, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, dueling so fiercely that their wands were blurs; then Harry's foot made contact with something round and hard and he slipped. For a moment he thought he had dropped the prophecy, but then he saw Moody's magical eye spinning away across the floor. Its owner was lying on his side, bleeding from the head, and his attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and Neville: Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee.
"Tarantallegra!" he shouted, his wand pointing at Neville, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap-dance, unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor again. "Now, Potter -"
He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, "Protego!" Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife; the force of it knocked him sideways and he fell over Neville's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell.
Dolohov raised his wand again. "Accio proph—"
Sirius had hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling on to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were dueling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand-tips – Dolohov drew back his wand to make the same slashing movement he had used on Harry and Hermione. Springing up, Harry yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" Once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backwards, landing with a crash on his back.
"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew towards them. "Now I want you to get out of-" They both ducked again; a jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius. Across the room Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back towards the fray.
"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!" Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix. Harry did not see what happened next: Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with the pockmarked and no longer masked Rookwood; another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself towards Neville -
"Can you stand?" he bellowed in Neville's ear, as Neville's legs jerked and twitched uncontrollably. "Put your arm round my neck -"
Neville did so - Harry heaved — Neville's legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support him, and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them: both fell backwards, Neville's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Harry with his left arm held up in the air to try to save the small glass ball from being smashed.
"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" snarled Lucius Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs.
""No - get - off - me… Neville - catch it!"
Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!"
Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now dueling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them.
"Harry, round up the others and GO!"
Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily on to the first tier of stone steps; Neville's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight; Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step - A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel; it crumbled away and he fell back to the step below. Neville sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and he thrust the prophecy into his pocket.
"Come on!" said Harry desperately, hauling at Neville's robes. "Just try and push with your legs" He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left seam - the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and, before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.
"Harry, I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do -"
"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of -"
"Dubbledore!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder.
"What?"
"DUBBLEDORE!"