16. Julie
Blurry images faded in and out as Harry struggled with the shadows that engulfed him. Whenever it seemed he might break free, the pain that tore through his limbs would eclipse the light, pushing him back into his dark isolation. Sometimes his body burned, and he would feel like he was standing in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, opening the locket all over again.
And then there were times when he felt cold, the kind of cold that is born from within the depths of your very soul. Every now and then, determined voices would seek him out, beckoning him from the darkness. He would feel himself being lifted, only to splutter and choke on liquids that were being forced into his mouth. The blackness seemed endless, his struggle, hopeless.
Then finally, he began to break free.
He could feel the shadows gradually lifting and the darkness ebbing away as he slowly came to. He opened his eyes to the dim orange light that flickered across the canopy above him. His body ached as he lifted a shaky hand to his head, and ran his fingers through his hair. Even though he was awake, his mind felt numb, like he was still asleep. He turned his head, spying the bedside cabinet and groggily lifted himself onto his elbow, reaching for his glasses. They clattered against the wood as his trembling hand fell on them. Pushing them onto his face, Harry looked out on a room he had never seen before.
He was lying in a four-poster, canopied bed. The cream floral sheets and quilt were old and worn, perhaps once they were white, but yellowed with age, yet they were clean. The dark grained wooden furniture that littered the room showed years of wear by its many scratches, and the wooden flooring had a large, threadbare rug in the centre upon which an old matching floral arm chair and lounge stood. They were positioned around the fireplace, whose small flames cast the only light with which to see by. Someone was lying on the couch; blonde hair was poking out of the end of a salmon coloured woollen blanket.
Blonde hair.
Harry looked down at the floor thoughtfully. Blonde hair. He felt like that should mean something to him. His head began to hurt as he tried to make the connection in his mind. He closed his eyes as the room started to swim. There was a huge emptiness inside of him, physically and mentally. It was like he was missing something. Something important. The door creaked open.
'Just closed shop, thought I'd come and have a look at ya.'
'Sir?' Harry croaked, confused. He had no idea where he was, but the last person he expected to see was his Defence teacher. Abe breathed out heavily as he crossed the room. He picked up a glass decanter that was resting on the mantle piece above the fire.
'You'd be wanting a drink, I expect.' Sir's gruff voice was comforting somehow and Harry slowly raised himself into an upright position, though his vision shifted unnaturally as he did so, causing everything to drift into two. He closed his eyes again to clear the sickening images from view. 'Just take it slow now,' Sir said as he poured some of the contents of the jug into a cup. 'Here.' He said, and he thrust the cup towards Harry.
Harry took it with a shaky hand and put the full cup to his lips, gulping the contents deeply, trying to quench the parched feeling in his mouth. As he pulled the cup away, he felt an incredible heat down the back of his throat, enough to make his eyes sting. He gasped as Sir took the empty cup and refilled it.
'That'll put a few hairs on your chest' he said, 'and a few other places you wouldn't want it … if you drink enough of it.' He added as he handed Harry the cup again. The warmth was spreading pleasantly from his throat to his stomach, filling some of the emptiness he felt, so Harry threw the second cup down the back of his throat, making his eyes water even more.
'He shouldn't be drinking that, Aberforth. He's not well enough.' The blonde girl had woken and was sitting upright, glaring disapprovingly at the two of them. Sir rolled his eyes at Harry as he refilled his cup to the brim again.
'Wont do him any harm.' And over his shoulder, he added 'Firewhiskey's one of the oldest medicines around.' He shook his head at Harry. 'Healers. There all the same.' Harry drank the firewhiskey down, welcoming the sensation of heat.
'When it comes to some things, yes.' She stood up and came over to the bed. Harry watched her as she took the jug from Sir, and grabbing the empty cup from Harry's hand, she placed them both on the cabinet. She was a young woman in her early twenties, not unpleasant to look at, with pale skin and shoulder length blonde hair, a few freckles across her nose and unnaturally deep brown eyes that had a soulful stare. He thought her features looked familiar somehow, he was almost certain he'd seen her somewhere before.
'You don't remember anything, do you?' she said quietly, eyeing him with those impossibly deep eyes.
'That depends,' Harry said, beginning to feel the effects of the Firewhiskey.
'On what?' Sir asked.
'On what I'm supposed to have forgotten.' Harry said with an intoxicated grin.
The warmth of the Firewhiskey was seeping through Harry rapidly, making the cold emptiness within him retreat. His body didn't seem to be trembling as severely and his head was no longer feeling heavy, in fact, it felt rather light.
The woman sighed 'You've never had Firewhiskey before, have you?'
'Nope.'
'Honestly Aberforth, you cant just go ploughing him with drink. I bet the strongest thing he's ever had is butterbeer.'
'So what if it is?' Harry said, getting a little irritated at her inference that he was a kid.
'I didn't mean it like that.' She aimed at him, then turning to Sir, she added 'He has to remember. The longer we put it off, the harder it'll be.' She seemed way too serious to Harry.
'C'mon Julie. It's better like this, something to soften the blow.'
'What blow?' An uneasy feeling was creeping over Harry as he watched them drowsily. They both turned and looked at him. Julie breathed in heavily and sat herself down on the bed. Sir grabbed the old wooden chair against the wall and pulled it before him, straddling the back of it.
'Two nights ago, you used a spell' Aberforth said gravely 'a dangerous spell … ancient magic that is rarely seen in this day and age. It saved a lot of people from a horrible death, but it wasn't without its side effects.' Harry's eyes dropped to the floor searchingly, which was swaying gently. Like Julie, it seemed familiar, but he couldn't see it in his mind, he couldn't remember it.
'You would have been alright, you would have felt drained like your companions, but you would have slept it off harmlessly. But you were already ill when you performed the spell,' Julie said quietly 'you just didn't know it yet. The power that you called upon used a lot of your own energy, and considering the condition you were in, it took rather a heavy toll on you.' Harry was frowning at her, though he could still feel a stupid grin on his lips. 'We need to help you remember the whole night, before bits of your memory start accosting you in your effort to piece it together. I can use legilimency to help put you in touch with the memory you're suppressing. Connect the dots, so to speak.'
'Suppressing?' Harry slurred slightly.
'If I can succeed in bringing the whole memory out in one go, then you'll be able to make sense of it, and face it. These sort of memories have a way of coming back in mangled pieces until you're tortured with an incomplete, and twisted knowledge of what happened.' Even through the haze of the Firewhiskey Harry swallowed uncomfortably. 'Trust me, its far worse leaving it to come slowly, than bringing it to the surface all at once, quickly.' She paused and went on nervously. 'There is the risk that I wont be able to bring it all out on my first try. It could be too difficult. That being the case, its always much harder to get in again a second time because …' she frowned and added uncertainly 'because you'll be, well … you'll-'
'Just do it.' Harry said dully, a sinking feeling had been growing in him along with the muzziness of intoxication. Something bad had happened, something he had to remember.
'But, you should know, if I can't get to the whole mem-'
'It doesn't matter. If it's worse to wait, then it's better to try, right?' he said with his eyelids drooping. He knew there was something missing, and he felt a great need to fill in the emptiness inside of him. He did not want to put off finding out the truth. He had to know what had brought him here. He needed to know, and maybe the Firewhiskey had helped him want to face it. She watched him in silence for a moment, and then she asked him to sit on the side of the bed.
He pulled the sheets back, barely registering he was still in his jeans and a t-shirt, rather than pyjamas, and swung his feet on the floor, his head swimming in warning as it seemed to trail behind his movements and his body trembling again. He closed his eyes and hung his head, running a hand through his hair in an effort to gather himself. Abe and Julie both stood, Abe offering his chair up to her as he turned it round the right way. She sat down and met Harry's gaze as he lifted his head.
'Ready?'
He nodded, and then a thought occurred to him.
'You wont be able to see anything else in there will you?' he asked 'I mean, you're going straight for the most recent memory, right?'
'Don't worry,' her mouth curved almost into a smile 'I wont be fishing around.' He breathed out and nodded slightly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.
Abe stood behind her as Harry met her eyes. She had her wand in hand, and under the determined gaze of her immensely deep eyes, he felt uncomfortably like she could see right through him, passed his veneer, and deep into his very heart and soul.
Then it started.
It came slowly at first, starting with the memory of his last lesson with Sir. Moving through the trees, the dappled light shining through the leaves, then was standing in the Great Hall, talking to Ron and Hermione. Next, the trio were in Hogsmeade, drawing unusual symbols on the ground.
Harry's heartbeat was quickening as the images gradually sped up. Each image Julie uncovered was being swamped with the accompanying memories. The monsters were coming and power surged through his body, light arcing across the sky as the Quintapeds writhed.
Harry flinched. The sweat was beginning to form on his brow again as the images came more rapidly. He was running through Hogsmeade, looking for cover, Julie at his side, then she was gone and Neville was in her place. They took cover and he instructed Neville to stay put.
Harry's breathing was becoming ragged now as the images flashed faster across his mind. He was running for the trees, but Neville was there. Next Neville was writhing on the ground in agony, and then Bellatrix was on the ground beneath him as the Quintaped neared.
'No' Harry breathed aloud. His stomach lurching painfully as the images bombarded him. This was all coming too fast. Something awful was about to happen, something he no longer wanted to see.
Neville rolled away and the Quintaped crunched down on Bellatrix … Two cloaked figures vanished … Julie and Neville greeted each other knowingly. The images swirled. It was coming too fast. He wasn't ready for it.
'NO!' he said urgently.
But before he could break the link, he saw it. A green flash of light, and Neville dropping helplessly to the ground.
He panted as he threw Julie out of his mind.
His whole body ached with the weight of it, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He looked up at her tear stained eyes. She had lived it all again through him. He hung his head in his hands, lost in his grief.
'It worked then?' Sir's gruff voice interrupted.
'Yes.' Julie said in a strained voice. There was silence for a moment as Harry stared at the floor, trying to slow his rapid breathing.
'I'll leave you to it.' Harry heard Sir's heavy footsteps clod across the floor, and then the creak of the door as it opened and closed again behind him.
'I'm sorry.' Julie said miserably. 'I knew him too, but not like you.' Harry looked up at her. 'His grandmother was a good friend of my mothers…' she trailed off when she saw the look on Harry's face. He stood up, swaying gently, and without speaking, went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He grabbed a towel from the cabinet, stripped, and ran an overly hot shower before steping into the scolding waterfall.
Harry's desolate tears mixed with the hot flow of water. He leaned his hands against the tiled wall, supporting himself under the punishing water as steam filled the room. His body still shook from fever, and the effort of showering, along with the grief of Neville's loss, exhausted him. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, his skin raw from the scolding heat, his legs barely carried him out of the bathroom and across the room to his bed.
Julie was back on the couch. She lay motionless as if asleep, but he doubted her mind was at peace enough for that. There was a note on a small piece of parchment next to the bed, instructing him to drink the contents of the cup beside it, and go back to bed. And though Harry loathed the thoughts of sleep and dreams, his body wouldn't do otherwise. He drank the potion down and slid under the sheets, fingering his scar, until he drifted into a restless sleep.
His dreams were full of hatred and heartbreak, as he relived the one event he would do anything to forget. He had grieved as he stumbled his way to the Hog's Head that night, before he had faded and lost his memory of it. He had felt like someone had reached in and ripped his insides out, and now … now that grief was slowly changing, gradually being replaced.
The night played over and over in a never-ending nightmare as anger and sadness coursed through him. He felt frustration because of his weakened state when it happened, knowing he should have prevented it. He was angry with Neville for coming to town, when he had told him to stay at Hogwarts. Feelings of regret swelled in him because he hadn't made Neville leave the minute he'd run into him, and a terrible fury flooded him at the Death Eater whose name he didn't yet know, who was responsible for killing the one person in this world that least deserved to die. The injustice of it swamped him, as he burned with fury in shadow.
He felt a cool damp cloth being pressed against his forehead, and opened his eyes. Julie was watching him as she mopped his brow; her eyes kind and sympathetic.
'It'll be okay.' her whispering voice said as she brought her lips down, brushing the skin she had cleared of dampness. His mind felt numb, as if he were still dreaming. He was searching for an escape, for something to embrace that would put an end to his pain. Reaching out, he grabbed her arm as she lifted it away to leave, unwilling to let his only source of comfort go. She eyed him almost pityingly, which angered him.
She thinks I'm a kid … She feels sorry for me! He could feel the anger wash through him, and driven by a need even he hadn't acknowledged, or maybe because he was still under the effects of the whiskey, he lifted himself to her abruptly and kissed her.
Her lips were unyielding to his determination at first, but then they parted to momentarily caress him before they faded. He collapsed back on the bed, throwing an arm over his forehead in frustration, his eyes looking out of the window, looking anywhere but at her. He felt her rise off the bed and held back the pain and anger that stewed below the surface. He had wanted the touch of another; he had craved a distraction from the image of Neville shrouded in a deathly green light.
The bed dipped and Harry turned to see Julie slipping between the sheets beside him. She had taken her jeans and shirt off, and was wearing only her white bra and briefs. He lay watching her, as she positioned herself on top of him.
Harry reached out to her in his time of need, and placed his hands on her thighs, slowly running them up to her hips. He found the feel of her soft skin extremely soothing, and as she brought her mouth down to his, he closed his eyes, pushing his haunting thoughts as deep as possible.
Her lips were warm and tender, and their touch eased him in his moment of grief. A longing he had been harbouring for what seemed like forever, awoke in him again, yet this time, he was not overcome with the need to douse the inner flames that erupted in him. They kissed without heavy emotion, like all the troubles of the world had disintegrated, and Harry revelled in the uncomplicated comfort.
She pulled away from him and slid her hands behind her back, unclipping her bra and dropping it thoughtlessly to the floor. Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head and lay back, taking in her femininity in the orange firelight, which gave her skin a healthy peach glow. She pressed her body against his, and as their lips met, Harry rolled her onto her back.
He dragged his lips lightly along the line of her neck, and made his way to her throat, the pain within him fading behind his want. His hand ventured up her inner thigh, and as it lingered, she arched her back, her breathing becoming more rapid. Harry lost himself in the pleasures he had been denying himself too long, and because the act was one of need, not love, there were no fears of repercussions. It was safe.
He kissed his way down her bare skin, and as his lips closed over her breast, a small gasp escaped her open mouth. His breathing was becoming ragged, her pleasure increasing his own excitement. He lifted himself to seek out her lips once more. She kissed him with an urgency that he returned, and as she reached down and undid his jeans, his tongue met hers, his own ache growing with the soft want that escaped her lips. He pulled away from her reluctantly to throw his jeans off, and then settled on top of her with his full weight as he kissed her deeply.
Her hands wandered feely over his back, making his skin come alive beneath her touch, and he started to feel a great need to complete what they had started. His hand found her underwear, and eased them down her thighs, and dragging his lips away from her neck, he pulled them off around her feet.
He came down on her intimately, carefully, seeking solace and an end to his aching want, and as they shared in their final moments together, Harry pushed all of his anguish deep inside, freeing himself to burden her with his pain, and finally finding the release that would help him face tomorrow.
During the night, Harry and Julie had lain in the dark and talked, both unwilling to sleep. It hadn't taken Harry long to realize that he liked Julie a lot. She was kind and generous, and very free spirited and independent, if not a little haphazard in her approach to life.
She had examined his rib cage, and aside from some residual bruising, it felt like new, though his fever lingered, and she informed him it would for another day or two, telling him if he expected to recover fully, he would have to eat properly and get more rest. She said his body was worn out, and would crash and burn again if he didn't start doing the right thing. Eventually Harry drifted into sleep, more at peace with himself now he'd had something to take his mind off Neville.
He woke later on that morning and dressed, leaving Julie still curled asleep under the covers. He headed down the stairs; his body still sweating, and feeling weak and sore. Julie had said Ron and Hermione would have slept the effects of the spell off, but the damage it had wreaked on Harry made him anxious to see for himself if they were okay. He felt responsible for getting them involved in it in the first place, and his guilt would only be quelled at the sight of them looking normal and healthy. Neville's death was the latest in a string of burdens he'd had to shoulder. He felt anymore would be too much. Anymore, and he would finally sink with the weight of it.
Harry threw the invisibility cloak over himself as he looked around the grimy, empty bar. Sir was nowhere in sight, so he made his way across the room and unlocked the door, stepping out into the brightness of the aftermath of an early snowfall. He pulled his thin jacket about him and set off through the foot deep snow towards Hogwarts, his mind lingering on Julie's sleeping form.
She had gotten to know Aberforth rather well while dating what she called, "a vile sack of festering pus", who had regularly dragged her along to the Hog's Head, ordering her to sit at the bar and wait for him while he met with numerous shady characters. She spent the time chatting to the barman, and one night about a year ago, Aberforth had spotted her natural talents for healing, when a particularly nasty incident involving her boyfriend, broke out on the street outside. She hadn't gone into details, but the event had disturbed her enough to finally leave him after two years of misery.
Harry had barely reached the edge of town before his body began to tremble again, whether from the fever, or the coldness of the biting breeze on his sweaty clothing. As he trudged through the gates of Hogsmeade, the road at his feet started to drift gently to and fro before his eyes, making the empty pangs in his stomach turn to nausea. He hadn't reached the halfway point, when his limbs began to ache, the extra effort required to lift his feet through the snow, exhausting him. He wished now he had slept last night, his thoughts turning back to his conversation with Julie.
Aberforth had prodded her into setting up her own premises in Hogsmeade, called "JAFZ" or "Julies Ache-Free Zone", which she also resided above in a small flat. She would never be qualified to work in St Mungos, unable to further her studies in healing having barely scraped through her owls at Hogwarts before leaving in her 5th year, but she hated hospitals anyway, so she really didn't mind. Sometimes she worked for little or no money, when ill people came to her with empty pockets, but she made enough to get by, and had even recently employed her friend Pen part time to help with the bookkeeping.
By the time he reached the huge iron gates of Hogwarts, Harry found it hard to focus on them. They seemed to loom over him, drifting dangerously. When they were closed behind him again, he continued on across the grounds, stopping just outside the double oak doors to remove his cloak and lean against the wall for support to gather his strength. Once the world stopped swirling sickeningly, he pulled himself off the wall and walked into the entrance hall, heading up the marble stairs.
As much as he yearned to see Ron and Hermione, he dreaded each and every step he took; the guilt over what had happened, and the knowledge of what waited for him in the common room, hung over him like a shadow in the empty hallways.
He could feel the Fat Lady watching him as he made his way slowly towards her, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. The long trip from Hogsmeade, had left him feeling feverish and worn out, so he wiped the sweat from his brow on the back of a shaky sleeve, before saying the password without looking at her.
The Fat Lady had grown rather fond of Neville over the past few years, having had frequent incidents with him over forgotten passwords, and her silence as he stood there, waiting for her to swing open, confirmed his worst fears. She blamed him, just like everyone else would. The painting finally opened to reveal the entrance, and as Harry eased himself through it, he heard a muffled sniff from her canvass.
His stomach dropped painfully.
He swayed as he walked into the common room. The low talk that had wafted through the room as he entered, died to complete silence. He stood there for a moment, wishing the ground would swallow him up, but their was no escaping what had happened.
His eyes fell on the only people in the room who were moving as he waited. Harry was swamped in bushy brown hair as Hermione threw herself at him. He had thought he would want his friends to rush to embrace him, but now that Hermione had him in a tight squeeze, he found he couldn't hug her back. Harry's arms hung loosely at his sides as she pulled away, her eyes swollen and watery.
'Are you and Ron okay?' he asked through shaky breaths as he fought to keep focused.
'We're fine, which is more than I can say for you.' Ron was frowning deeply at Harry.
'What about Lupin … Tonks … the others?' he asked.
'They all made it.' Ron said solemnly.
'Harry, where have you been? McGonagall told us what happened … she said you were with someone who was looking after you, but…' she trailed off shaking her head, taking in his appearance and wiping at her damp cheeks with her hand.
Aware that all eyes in the room were on them, he said 'I'll tell you about it -' stopping abruptly as he saw Ginny emerging from the girl's dormitory. He felt the sweat beading on his face as he dropped his gaze to the floor.
She walked silently to him and lifted a hand to his forehead. 'Your ill, you shouldn't have come back alone.'
'We should take you to Madame Pomphrey!' Hermione said quickly.
'No!' Harry said abruptly. He didn't want to spend the night in the hospital ward, and he didn't like them fussing over him suddenly. It felt wrong that they should be so easy on him.
'Upstairs' Ginny quietly, and firmly took him by the hand, directing him up to the boy's dorms. Harry went; glad to be out of the watchful gaze of the other students. When they reached the Gryffindor seventh year's dorm, Ginny went over to the window and closed it against the strong chill. When she turned, Harry was staring at Neville's bed, transfixed by the loneliness of it.
Neville's belongings had already been removed. Nothing remained. Except the knowledge that as far as Harry was concerned, this was Neville's space. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he couldn't stop himself. Neville was one of the things about Hogwarts that had made it home. Neville had always had faith in Harry. He had always trusted him. Guilty tears prickled at his eyes.
A soft touch on his arm made him turn. Ginny quietly spilled warm tears down her cheeks as she looked at him, but now that he thought about his encounter with Julie, he could no longer look her in the eye. She took a step closer and held him, but it did not comfort him, instead it doubled his guilt. He knew he would have to tell her, he knew he wouldn't be at peace until he did. And then it would change everything. He knew. This would be the thing that would drive her to let go. But he could not do it yet, not while her grief was so raw.
She pulled away; surprised that he did not return her embrace. A flicker of doubt registered in her eyes, but she turned from him and pulled his bed sheets back.
'Hermione's gone to tell McGonagall you're back.' Ron said heavily as he entered the room.
'Get in to bed.' Ginny said as she stripped him of his jacket. 'I'll bring you up something to eat.' Ron cleared his throat as he hovered awkwardly by the cast iron fireplace.
'What about class?' Harry asked as he sunk between the sheets.
'Saturday, mate. No class till Monday.' Ron frowned in obvious concern.
'Don't you remember what day it is?' Ginny started to wipe his forehead with a hand towel she had dipped into the water jug, but Harry grabbed her arm.
'Don't' he said without looking at her. 'I can do it.' Taking the cloth from her and pressing it to his forehead, he laid back and put his head on the pillow, closing his eyes. He didn't want her to touch him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't deserve it. He could sense she and Ron were exchanging glances in the silence that followed, but it wasn't until she left the room, that Ron spoke.
'Where've you been?'
'The Hog's Head.' Harry said, opening his eyes again to stare at the canopy above him.
'Why there?'
'It's where I ended up,' he placed the cloth on the bedside table 'after…' Ron didn't wait for more.
'So you were with Sir?' he said sceptically.
'Yeah, except he's not just "Sir" anymore.' He turned his head to look at Ron 'His names Aberforth. Aberforth Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore was his brother.'
Ron screwed his face up. 'What … him?'
'I know now why he looked familiar to me the first time I saw him years ago at the pub. I'd already seen a photo of him. Moody showed it to me at Sirius's place.' Harry stared at the ceiling again. 'He was a bit younger then, not so hairy as now, but it's definitely him.'
'How come he never said?'
'No idea,' Harry had wondered the same thing. There was silence for a moment.
'You alright?' Ron asked. Harry closed his eyes again. He didn't want to go over everything that had happened. He would tell Ron and Hermione soon, just not right now. 'It's just … you're …' Harry looked at him as Ron lifted a finger hesitantly to his forehead, pointing at it 'you're playing with your scar.'
Harry hadn't even noticed that he was running his finger back and forth over it. He pulled his hand away quickly. 'It's fine, it doesn't hurt.' He tried to sound normal, but didn't quite manage it. He had told the truth, his scar wasn't hurting, but it itched with a strange feeling of pins and needles.
Hermione came in a short time later with a tray of porridge and toast, plonking it down on his bed as he sat up.
'We should have made you eat more.' She said gravely, 'I knew you were falling ill. I should've made you eat.' He didn't feel a bit like eating right at that moment, but listening to Hermione made him feel incredibly guilty, and he knew if he wanted to get well he was going to have eat more, so he worked his way through the porridge while Ron and Hermione told him what happened to them in Hogsmeade.
After the Death Eaters attacked, they ran for cover in a nearby alley, and found themselves being pursued by two of the black-cloaked figures. They ran from street to street, dodging curses, occasionally flinging one off of their own, but a terrible tiredness was creeping up on them. Hermione said it was as if they'd drunk a sleeping potion, and then were stupidly trying to run off the effects.
Eventually they were slouched against a vacant house, battling to keep their feet when the persistent Death Eaters, who turned out to be Amycus and Avery, (names Harry recognized immediately) closed in on them. Ron and Hermione tried to claw their way out of their stupor, but their was no fighting it, and laughing at the state they were in, huddled in a doorway almost passed out, Amycus and Avery raised their wands.
Ron said a curse that seemed to come from nowhere, knocked Avery off his feet, and when Amycus turned in search of the caster, he was hit by a red flash and knocked unconscious too. That was the last thing either of them remember. They woke up in the hospital wing the next day.
'Must have been Lupin.' Harry said. He had finished his porridge, and was lying back on the pillow again. He closed his eyes as his own tiredness began to get the better of him.
'Get some rest,' Hermione said. 'We'll be back to check on you later.'
Harry only vaguely heard her as the warmth in his stomach from the much needed intake of food spread pleasantly through him, and slowly lolled him to sleep.
'Harry…' a soft echoing voice called to him from afar. He was floating. Or was he drowning? He was suspended in a sea of inky blackness, drifting with the current. Up ahead of him he could see a light. He was slowly making his way towards the murky red glow.
'Harry…' there it was again. He pulled his body round to look over his shoulder. But there was nothing but blackness behind him.
'Harry!' the voice echoed louder and he knew its sweet sound. He turned from the red glow, and then someone was shaking him. Opening his eyes, he looked into Ginny's worried face.
'I've brought you something to eat.' Her brow creased, as she stared at him. She was sitting on the side of the bed in the low light of a single lamp.
'What time is it?' he asked, lifting himself up.
'It's six thirty, everyone's in the Hall having dinner. How are you feeling?'
'Tired.' He said as he took the tray she handed him. He eyed the roast with a sigh. At least the plate wasn't piled high.
'I didn't put too much on,' she said uncannily.
'Thanks' He cut the meat and placed it in his mouth.
Ginny stayed with him while he ate, keeping her conversation light as she talked mostly about Hedwig. Harry asked after Socks, wondering why he hadn't seen much of her around the castle since his stay in the hospital wing, and Ginny told him she had disappeared almost three weeks ago. When Harry looked startled she added that Socks had been the same ever since she'd known her, which was almost a year. Far longer than Harry would have guessed since Ginny had never mentioned her before.
The normalness of their conversation helped take Harry's mind off things that would have affected his appetite, so that when he finally put the tray down at his feet, there were only a few pieces of carrot and a roast potato left.
'Harry…' Ginny sounded unsure of herself, heavy with emotion as he sat back on his pillows, still finding it difficult to be under her gaze. 'Neville came to me before he left for Hogsmeade. He said something that I think you should hear…'
Harry looked Ginny directly in her slightly glazed for the first time since he returned, feeling a dull ache in his chest.