The Hospital Wing
Albus looked on as those he had requested the presence of filed into his office.
Already, he had spoken with the Flamels of the news he had to share, and both Perenelle and Nicholas were as about as pleased as any other who had any connection to those involved in the task.
"Well, Albus?" Barty Crouch demanded.
Albus released a deep breath.
He'd not long returned from the lake and could not shake off the image of what he had seen when he'd arrived at the merepeople village.
"I can confirm with absolute certainty that the task was sabotaged," he began tiredly. "Severus, if you will."
The Potions Master stepped forward, clutching a length of parchment.
"Having tested several samples of the water from the lake, I can confirm traces of no less than six potions to induce aggression, territorialism, and bloodlust," he explained.
"Goodness me!" Ludo Bagman choked.
"Indeed," Albus murmured darkly. "From my own investigation, it is evident that someone entered the lake and used Mind Magicks on the merepeople. Unfortunately, I cannot confirm who was behind it. The memories of the merepeople have been altered, and I was unable to discuss the matter with Mercus, the Chieftain."
"Whyever not, Albus?" Minerva asked.
"He is dead," Albus answered simply. "He, along with more than a dozen that attacked Mr Potter perished in the struggle. As I am sure you are all aware, it is an incredible stroke of luck that Mr Potter was able to get himself and Miss Delacour out of the lake."
Those gathered began talking amongst themselves.
"How is Mr Potter, Albus?" Madame Maxime asked.
"Not well," Albus answered. "By all accounts, Harry should be dead. The blood loss alone should have seen to it, let alone the several poisons the merepeople weapons were laced with. Do not take it lightly when I say that Mr Potter is in a dire condition, and he is certainly not out of the woods yet. Poppy is at a loss as to how he is alive, as our the several other Healers that have come to inspect him."
Again, the others spoke amongst themselves.
"I think the question we must now consider is how we proceed?" Bagman put to the room. "The media have already had a field day with this, and not only here. Even in America the news of what happened has been printed."
"The tournament must proceed," Barty answered firmly. "The champions are bound to compete until the very end, just as I explained to the Delacours."
As much as Albus wished he could simply put an end to the tournament, it was not so simple. The magic of the goblet was very much still in effect and the consequences of the contract not being fulfilled could be quite dire for all involved.
"You can't seriously be considering continuing?" Severus broke in. "Potter almost died and from what I know, the French champion did. This is madness."
Albus quirked an eyebrow at the usually reserved man.
"We must," Igor interjected. "The champions knew the risks when they submitted their names."
"Harry Potter did not submit his name," Albus pointed out.
"And yet, the goblet accepted him," Igor retorted. "By all means, we can disqualify the boy if you wish."
"You are only saying that because he is in the lead," Madame Maxime snorted humourlessly.
"Only because you all felt he deserved merit for his foolish actions."
"His actions saved the lives of two of my students!" Maxime snapped. "If it was not for Harry Potter, Fleur would likely be dead, and Gabrielle certainly would be."
The girl had been an inch from death when Harry had returned her to the shore. Although Poppy had managed to bring her round in only a day, Gabrielle Delacour had a long road to recovery.
Her magic had been severely affected and Albus felt terrible.
The Delacours had wasted no time in taking her home to a Veela professional the moment Poppy had allowed them.
"I think it would be best to wait to discuss what happens next until we know the status of Mr Potter," Minerva urged. "Knowing him, the damned fool will not wish to withdraw from the tournament."
"Of course he won't," Alastor chuckled. "The boy is winning, and he is made of strong stuff."
The meeting had broken up only moments later with nothing being rectified.
The media had been having a field week with the various headlines they'd produced, each hailing Harry a hero and damning the tournament for almost getting him killed.
Day in and day out the journalists from across the magical world had been arriving, each of them determined to claim a story, or be granted an audience with the boy of the hour.
Albus had not allowed any of them into the castle, and certainly not near the boy who was being watched closely by a certain young lady, which reminded him that he was due to visit Harry himself.
Despite everything, Albus was proud of what Harry had done.
It took someone of exceptional character to be so selfless when faced with such danger and adversity, yet, he had not wavered and had emerged from the lake having saved more than one life.
Albus only hoped that it would not cost him his own.
(Break)
It was nothing short of a miracle that Harry yet breathed.
Looking upon him as she had for the inordinate number of days that had passed since he'd emerged from the lake, Katie could scarcely believe that he was alive. Only the shallow rising and falling of his chest offered her the much-needed comfort.
His skin was pale and lips still blue from what it was he had endured in the lake.
Even now, Katie didn't know what that was.
Dumbledore and the others were remaining tight-lipped, and never had the headmaster seemed so severe every time he entered the Hospital Wing to check on Harry for himself.
There had been a slew of visitors.
Of course, Ron and Hermione were here often. Cedric too was here daily, and the twins along with Angelina and Alicia came to attempt to offer Katie a semblance of comfort.
It was no good.
Katie would not feel any relief until Harry opened his eyes for her.
Not a minute went by that she did not whisper to him, urging him to wake up, even for a moment just so that she could see he was getting better.
From what she had heard, the fallout of the incident had been grim at best.
The other visitors had included an older French couple whom Katie had assumed was the Delacour parents, but how they interacted with the unconscious Harry was nothing less than with the utmost affection.
They had given no names but had spent considerable time with the boy and spoke with Katie at length about him, though when she thought about it, they hadn't told her much.
She had done most of the talking, had explained how they had met, how he had asked her to the ball, and so on. In a way, it had been somewhat therapeutic, and Katie was interested to know who these people were.
Clearly, Harry meant a lot to them, and the way the woman held his hand and groomed his messy hair spoke of a maternal instinct she held for him.
The man was similar in his own way, cupping Harry's cheek and squeezing his shoulder before they had taken their leave.
The Delacours, who had not been aware of Gabrielle volunteering to act as a hostage for her sister, had been apoplectic with the judges for their oversight, and with their youngest daughter who had put herself in such a vulnerable position.
She had been no worse for wear, for the most part, but as soon as she had been well enough, her father had taken her back to France, though not before visiting Harry.
Both had been taken aback by his wounds, the mother even crying as she spoke frantically in French to her husband who had said little other than to assure Katie they would be back when Harry was awake.
Fleur had visited too, though Katie had barely spoken a word to her.
The girl had been distraught, mumbling to him in her mother tongue. Katie couldn't understand a word of it, but there was no doubt in her mind that Fleur felt guilty.
As she should.
Deep down, Katie knew she couldn't blame the French champion for what had happened, but she couldn't help it.
Had Delacour not been so incompetent in the water, Harry would not be in the condition he was now.
Then again, if Harry wasn't such a noble idiot, the very same could be said.
Katie sighed as she took his hand.
It was cold. Everything about the boy had been cold since he'd made it out of the lake by whatever deity it was looking over him.
Come Death, come…
It seemed that none of the others who had been close enough had heard the ominous words, but Katie had. She knew not what they meant. However, she would never forget them, nor the peaceful way in which they were uttered despite the horror of the situation.
"Is there no change?"
Katie shook her head as Dumbledore stood next to Harry, his eyes roaming over the motionless form of the boy.
"I expect that will change soon," the headmaster said encouragingly. "He is made of stern stuff. Very few possess such resilience."
Katie nodded.
"Do you know what happened?"
Dumbledore looked apologetic as he nodded.
"I have more than an idea, but I am afraid I must say little for the time being," he sighed. "All that matters is Harry's recovery. You have demonstrated astounding loyalty to him, Miss Bell."
"How can I not?" Katie whispered. "I always knew he was special when it came to Quidditch, but this is… I don't know."
"He is a remarkable young man," Dumbledore agreed with a smile. "He is lucky to have you. I am sure he will wake soon."
"I hope so," Katie murmured as the headmaster left the Hospital Wing. "Come on, Harry."
(Break)
Fleur had not gotten a moment of peaceful rest since the day of the second task. Whenever she closed her eyes, she remembered vividly the feeling of the life being choked out of her, how that in her final moments she prayed that someone would get to her sister in time, and that Gabrielle would be well.
Waking up suddenly and being held by Harry Potter had been the last thing she would have expected.
Somehow, he had saved her life.
Even now, the fading bruises around her neck stood as a reminder of what had happened and just who it was that had stepped up for her, for Gabrielle, and for their parents even though Fleur had treated him horribly.
She had never seen her father scared, but as he and her mother arrived the fear was evident in his eyes.
Sebastien Delacour had once been a seasoned auror, had killed and seen his colleagues killed in the line of duty, and yet, he merely shrugged such things off when they were mentioned.
Seeing his daughter's in such a state and learning of what had occurred had pushed the man over the edge.
He had cried over Gabrielle's unconscious form and had been inconsolable as Madame Maxime explained all that had happened to them. He had held Fleur so tightly that she was convinced he would never let her go.
All the while, her mother had not said a word.
She had sat vigil by Gabrielle's side, mute, pale, and as unresponsive as the daughter she watched over.
When Gabrielle had woken, she had been confused, terrified of what she had unknowingly gone through under the surface of the lake, and even more so when Madame Maxime had returned to explain what Dumbledore had learned.
Harry Potter had fought off more than a dozen armed merepeople and had done so whilst rescuing Gabrielle from certain death, perhaps at the cost of his own life.
'The boy is a marvel,' her father had declared. 'How? How did he manage it?'
There were no answers to such a question.
Fleur would not pretend to know every detail of what had occurred within the lake, but from what Madame Maxime had said, the merepeople village had become a veritable slaughter-ground with corpses and body parts strewn around by the time Harry had managed to get Gabrielle out.
If anything, Fleur had not only been humbled by the ordeal, but had been taught that she could not take what she had for granted. Harry Potter had shown her that, and she knew that in her heart of hearts, there was nothing she could do that would ever put them on equal footing.
Where she had stumbled, he had thrived, and where she had failed, he had succeeded.
It was a bittersweet thing for such a prideful girl to admit, but Fleur could not deny the truth. Her father had been right.
Harry Potter was a marvel, but not only that, he was her hero.
She cringed internally at what most would consider a glorified summarisation, but she could think of no other word to describe him that would do his actions justice.
"How is Gabrielle?" she asked worriedly as her mother entered.
The woman sighed and shook her head.
"It will take some time, Fleur," she chided lightly. "Being in the lake has triggered magic that her body is not ready for. There is no telling the effect it will have on her when it all settles."
Fleur nodded her understanding.
"And father?"
"Is coping. He has taken an extended leave of absence until he is certain everything is alright. Minister Lavelle was very understanding. He is quite keen to hear news of Harry Potter."
"Everyone is," Fleur sighed. "Do you think…"
"I do not know, Fleur," her mother interjected. "It is a miracle that he is even alive now. There is no telling what effect this could have on the boy. The conclave are holding a vigil for him. They wish to bless him with good fortune."
"That's nice of them," Fleur said with a sad smile.
"It is expected," her mother said firmly. "He saved two of our kind when he had no obligation to. Most wizards would do no such thing for us, especially involving such danger."
Fleur nodded her agreement.
"Can I go? I would like to be there."
"You can," her mother agreed. "Both your grandmother and I will be attending. It is the least we can do. Your father is fretting about how he will ever make this right with the boy."
"He can't."
"No, he cannot," her mother agreed with a soft smile. "There is nothing we could give that would be enough to show our gratitude."
Fleur felt another wave of guilt wash over her.
She expected no forgiveness from Harry, should he ever wake, but she would show humility and unending gratitude to him for what he'd done for her and her family.
A sincere apology wouldn't go amiss, even if he did not accept it.
Never had she been so wrong about a person, and all she wanted was for Harry Potter to be okay, for him to come out of this the other side as intact as possible.
(Break)
With so many blows being aimed at him, there had been no avoiding them all.
Harry had done all he could to protect Gabrielle, grimacing as he felt the cold steel cutting into his flesh.
One…two…three…
He lost count of how many wounds had been inflicted upon him, how many spells he had cast despite how much slower he moved within the water. All he knew was pain, yet the need to survive, to get Gabrielle out did not falter as he fought with everything he had.
When all was said and done and he was surrounded by crimson liquid, he kicked with all of his might, unleashing a grunt as the exclamation point of the melee came in the form of a dull thud in his back.
He did not turn but unleashed a barrage of spells behind him as he pushed the girl through the water.
Gabrielle looked untroubled, peaceful even and it was this he focused on as he struggled inch by inch until his foot was met with loose dirt.
It wasn't until he stood that he realised the spells to aide his breathing had failed sometime during the fight, and as he took his first steps towards the shore, he felt the warmth of his own blood pouring from his various wound taking the chill away.
He had stumbled then, falling to a knee, but he had not reached his destination.
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to stand once more, and his vision swam.
He could feel the chill of Death grow colder and before he could utter a word, he was pulled into the void where he felt as though he was drowning.
'Come Death, come,' he whispered, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain that plagued him faded.
Here, there were no gaping wounds, no bones that had been hacked into by sword or trident. The was nothing but darkness and the chill of the one he had chosen to follow.
To most, it would be frightening to be deprived of every sense, but for Harry, it was bliss.
There was no telling how long he remained here. Each passing hour felt but a moment and each moment felt to be an hour. It was almost as though it was timeless, thoughtless, something of a dreamless rest.
It wasn't until his eyes suddenly opened and Harry found himself in the colourless churchyard of the Godric's Hollow of old that he gained true clarity.
"Am I dead?" he asked.
"No," the cloaked figure that was seemingly staring at him speculatively replied. "You called for me, and I came."
"I did," Harry whispered.
The cloaked figure continued to stare for a moment.
"Fate truly is set on seeing you face him," it said in a gravelly tone. "Perhaps she favours you."
"She has a funny way of showing it."
The figure chuckled hoarsely.
"I was on the cusp of claiming your soul, but something compelled me to wait. You called, I came and your soul called to me once more. Before I could take it, I felt no need to. It does not belong to me yet, Harry Potter. However, since Fate seems to be playing her hand, I see it fit to play my own."
With a wave of its handless sleeve, Harry felt the cloak being taken away from him.
"By removing one of the few advantages I have?"
The cloaked figure shook its head.
"By giving you a gift," it replied.
"At what cost?"
The figure said nothing for a moment.
"You show your wisdom," it praised. "This one comes with no price. Your enemies are many and your allies few, Harry Potter. I am sure this will serve you well."
Harry could only watch as an ethereal Thestral emerged from the surrounding fog, black as the night sky and with eyes of the brightest white. The creature snorted and eyed him speculatively before cantering forward and vanishing into the cloak.
"She will become as much a part of you as the cloak, a noble mount for one who has proved his nobility. Your ancestors would be proud."
"But you hate my ancestors," Harry pointed out.
"I do," the figure said without hesitation, "but they are mine. She may have chosen you but you have become my chosen. I would possess the broken soul of your foe, and as it is only you that can claim it, you are my champion. To break the bonds of Fate that shackle you, you must unshackle the soul of your enemy. Bring it to me, Harry Potter, and all will be forgiven."
Harry frowned in confusion.
Much of what the figure said made little sense, but it was something he had grown accustomed to. He would have to figure it out for himself, or perhaps what he needed to know would unfold as he journeyed through whatever Fate had in store for him.
"The stone?" he asked as his surroundings grew hazy. "Do you know where it is?"
Harry almost felt the figure smiling.
"The stone shackles a piece of the broken soul,' it answered cryptically. "It can be found where he began."
"Where he began?"
"His origins," the figure answered. "Rise, Harry Potter."
Taking a breath of surprise at the sudden influx of pain that pulsated throughout his body, Harry took a moment to grow used to the discomfort. It was far from being as bad as it was as he'd stepped out of the lake, but he could not deny the dull ache that plagued him especially his chest and back.
Opening his eyes, he saw only a little light through the dark hair spilled across his face and instinctively wrapped his arm around the trembling girl clinging to him.
"You smell terrible," he croaked.
Katie looked up, beaming in relief at the sight of him.
"I've not left you," she said, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
Harry merely grinned and the girl choked, squeezing him tighter.
Katie hadn't left him and the thought alone warmed his heart more than he could put into words.
"I thought you were dead," she whispered when she managed to compose herself.
"It was close."
Katie nodded as she looked up once more, almost as though she expected him to simply crumble into dust.
"How long was I out?"
Katie shrugged.
"Days," she answered. "I've lost count. I need to get Madam Pomfrey. She told me to as soon as you woke up."
She made to do so, only to pause when it was only their hands that remained connected.
"I don't want to leave you."
"I'm sure I'll be fine for a minute," Harry chuckled.
Katie worried her lower lip and Harry pulled her to him once more.
"I'm not exactly going anywhere, am I?" he asked amusedly.
"You almost did," Katie said sadly as she stood, reluctantly letting go of him and walking through the curtains drawn around his bed.
Harry took a moment to survey the state of his chest.
The deep wound had been healed yet the black and blue bruising remained prominent around the thick, puckered scar. He suspected his back looked not better, but he took some comfort that the others were not so obvious.
As ever, Madam Pomfrey had done her job well.
Katie had been gone only a moment with a relieved healer in tow.
"Miss Bell, I must examine him. If you would kindly wait…"
"She can stay," Harry cut in.
"Very well," Madam Pomfrey agreed. "I would perhaps suggest you at least put some underwear on first."
Harry was mortified as the woman offered him a pointed look.
"I'm naked?" he groaned.
"The shorts you were wearing were covered in blood," the healer explained as Katie grinned behind her back. "It is a miracle they remained on at all."
"Bloody hell," Harry cursed, accepting the underwear the woman handed him.
"Don't worry," Katie soothed. "It was only me that took advantage of you."
Harry glared at the girl who was still crying, though trying to make light of the situation.
He appreciated the effort. It certainly took the edge off fumbling under the sheets as he attempted to preserve his modesty.
"There," he declared when he was done.
Without preamble, Madam Pomfrey pulled the sheet back to inspect his wounds.
"Any pain?" she asked.
"Does emotional scaring count? Who's been in here?"
"Just about everyone," Katie answered as she eyed him worriedly. "No one saw anything."
"Potter?"
"It aches," Harry sighed.
"I'd expect nothing less," Madam Pomfrey murmured as she peered at his chest. "There was significant damage to your skin, muscles, and bones. Are you able to sit?"
Harry grimaced as he did so and offered Katie a grateful smile when she stepped in to help him.
Why she had chosen to stay for so long, he didn't quite understand, but he wasn't ungrateful.
Madam Pomfrey hummed as she ran her fingers across the sensitive skin on his back.
"You are recovering remarkably well," she declared. "I will give you a mild pain potion and you will need to have a salve for the wounds. I'm afraid the scarring will be quite significant. The poisons the blades were coated with was quite potent."
"Venom?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded.
"It is nothing short of a miracle that you are alive, Mr Potter. The poisons would be enough to kill most things. I can only assume that they had either been diluted by the water of the lake or it was an immature batch that was used. Regardless, it is not something that can be removed. It will remain in your blood. If anything, it is quite fortunate that you bled out as much as you did. I suspect it helped lessen the effects. It took twelve Blood-Replenishing Potions to stabilise you and three more over the course of three days. I cannot stress how fortunate you are. Now, I will fetch your potions and send for the headmaster. He will be quite insistent on speaking with you."
Harry could only nod as he frowned, grabbing some trousers someone had the foresight to bring him along with the other clothes in the pile.
He released a deep sigh as he pulled them on.
"I suppose it's too much to ask that no one noticed what happened?"
"Harry, the entire world knows what happened," Katie replied, her smile no longer present. "It's all the media has been discussing, and not just here."
Harry cursed under his breath.
"How bad is it?"
"That everyone thinks you're a hero?" Katie returned. "Whether you like it or not, you are. I know what I saw, Harry. You saved Delacour's life and then…"
Katie choked as she broke off and shook her head.
"Is Gabrielle okay?"
"She's alive," Katie answered. "Her parents took her back to France. They were here, and Delacour was too. They said they'd be back when you wake up. I'd expect a lot of visitors if I was you."
"Not today," Harry murmured. "I don't want any today."
"I'll make sure you're left alone," Katie assured him as she took his hand. "You're still cold. You've not felt warm all week."
Harry nodded.
He didn't feel cold. To him, the room was rather stifling but he could feel it in his magic; the same coldness that had clung to him and only grown stronger since he came into possession of the cloak.
"Thank you," he said gratefully. "For being here."
Katie gave his hand a squeeze.
"I couldn't leave you, not without knowing you're okay."
A smirk tugged at Harry's lips as he looked up at her.
"You do really smell," he snorted.
Katie shrugged.
"No worse than I do after Quidditch," she replied. "What, do you miss the girl in the dress who shaved her legs for you?"
Harry laughed, clutching his chest as it throbbed.
"You did not."
"Oh, I did," Katie reiterated. "Not that I don't ever shave them, but with hair as dark as mine, it can be a real problem. Alicia and Angelina call me grizzly and I have no idea why I'm telling you this," she finished, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
Harry laughed again, grimacing at the strain it put on him.
"I expect they look quite grizzly now. A week is a long time."
Katie quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Just for you, I will leave them another week," she said with a pout.
"Well, it's not like I'll be able to enjoy them in here, is it?" Harry quipped.
"You've thought about enjoying my legs?"
"Well, then I suppose Mr Potter must be feeling better than I hoped."
Both Harry and Katie blushed as Dumbledore stepped around the curtain, smiling at the sight of Harry.
"You had me worried, Harry, along with many others. They will be quite relieved to hear you are on the mend."
Harry frowned before his eyes widened.
"Were they here?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"Indeed, and let me tell you, Harry, it has been quite some time since I have been on the receiving end of the lady's temper. She is most displeased with me, but that is for another time. Now, would you kindly tell me what happened? I am certain of much, but I would like to hear it from you if you feel up to it."
Katie too seemed eager to learn of what happened, and Harry nodded.
In truth, most of what had happened had passed by in a blur. He remembered holding Gabrielle close to him as he did his utmost to fend off the attack from the merepeople, failing for the most part as demonstrated by the wounds he sported, yet, he had ultimately succeeded in escaping.
"They were not themselves," Harry murmured. "Their eyes had turned red and they hadn't been so hostile when I retrieved Katie."
Dumbledore nodded and released a deep breath.
"It has been confirmed that the task was sabotaged," he sighed. "There merepeople, along with most other creatures in the lake were subjected to potions and even a number of spells to make them act aggressively. They remember little and are deeply apologetic. It is rare for them to act in such a way towards humans, only when they are breeding."
"How many?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore offered him a sad smile.
"Seventeen, including the Chieftain, Mercus," he answered. "They do not blame you, Harry. The new Chieftain explained they would feel much worse had you been killed in the struggle. The have lived harmoniously in the lake for centuries, as per the agreement they made with one of my predecessors. They asked me to present you with this as an offering of peace."
Dumbledore removed what appeared to be a golden fork from within his robes and resized it before presenting it to Harry.
"It belonged to the now former Chieftain and I am to offer you the sincerest of apologies."
Harry could only shake his head.
"They have nothing to apologise for," he murmured. "Maybe when I am feeling better I will be able to speak with them?"
"I am certain I can arrange it," Dumbledore replied with a smile.
"What about Gabrielle?"
"Madame Maxime has heard no news since she was taken back home. My understanding is that she is having difficulties with stabilising her magic, but Madam Pomfrey was hopeful that no permanent damage was done."
"Good. What about Fleur?"
"Miss Delacour has recovered well thanks to you, Harry. I expect Mr and Mrs Delacour will want to speak with you when you are ready. Incurring two life debts is no small matter."
"Life debts?" Harry asked confusedly.
"I am not certain how they work with veela magic, so I shall leave that for the Delacours to explain, but yes, Harry. You undoubtedly saved both of them, and as such, a debt of sorts was formed. Madame Maxime has confirmed it."
"What does it mean?"
"It doesn't have to mean anything, Harry," Dumbledore assured him. "If you choose to ignore them, it is your prerogative to do so, but I suspect the Delacours may not be so content. The gesture made is not insignificant, and a man of the calibre of Sebastien Delacour is unlikely to be so dismissive. I urge you to hear what he has to say on the matter."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"Of course, there has been much speculation," Dumbledore continued. "I'm afraid that you are once more the talking point of much of the wizarding world. The progress of the tournament is followed by many, and your actions have not gone unnoticed. If you continue as you are, Harry, I'm afraid you will never escape your fame," the man added with an amused smile.
"Bloody hell," Harry cursed, eliciting a chuckle from the headmaster.
"Now, as I'm sure you understand, there are many waiting eagerly to hear of news of you. I will leave you in the capable hands of Miss Bell and Madam Pomfrey who I'm sure is keen to administer further treatment. I will visit again, Harry."
With that, Dumbledore offered Harry a bow before taking his leave, paving the way for the healer to return.
"Drink these," she instructed, handing him two full vials, one a pain relief potion and the other something to assist with his wounds. "I would ask that you sit still whilst I apply the salve"
"I can do it!" Katie volunteered, her cheeks reddening as Madam Pomfrey quirked an eyebrow at the girl.
"Very well. A thin layer should be enough on his chest and back only. There is no need to take advantage of the poor boy, Miss Bell. I shall send for some food for you, Potter."
Katie merely stared at the jar of salve the woman had handed her, aghast at the insinuation.
It was Harry's laughter that pulled her from her thoughts.
"It's not funny," Katie grumbled, though her eyes were alight with mirth. "Come on, turn around."
"You really don't have to…"
"I said turn around, Harry."
Harry huffed as he did so, squirming as the cold salve was carefully applied.
"Stop squirming!"
"It's cold!"
Katie tutted.
"You take on a dragon and whatever else was in that lake and you complain about some cold cream," she snorted.
Harry could only shake his head.
"Face me."
Turning, he frowned at the sight of the tears spilling down Katie's cheeks as she shifted her attention to the chest wound, running a finger along it.
"Is it that hideous?" Harry quipped.
Katie swallowed as she shook her head.
"I really thought you were going to die," she whispered. "Up until you opened your eyes, I didn't think you were coming back."
"It turns out that I'm not so easy to kill. Voldemort couldn't do it, nor could a dragon or a murderous group of merepeople. I must have someone looking over me."
Katie nodded as she continued applying the salve, replacing the lid when she was done.
"Did you want to die?"
"What?"
Katie met his gaze. She was no longer crying but there was no doubt in Harry's mind that she had spent much of the past days doing so, and certainly not sleeping.
Nonetheless, she still looked beautiful to him.
"You kind of woke up next to the lake and you said something. Come Death, come. Did you want to die?"
"No," Harry answered. "It is a family motto of sorts. It's not about wanting to die."
Katie frowned and Harry carefully took her hand.
"It's not really something I can talk about, but I'm not planning on going anywhere."
Katie nodded and pulled him into a gentle hug and Harry's nose wrinkled.
"You really should take a shower."
She laughed as she nodded and pulled away only slightly to meet his gaze.
"Will you be alright?"
"I'll be fine," Harry said dismissively. "Have a shower, eat some food, and get some sleep. I'm not exactly in any fit state to be going anywhere, am I?"
Katie eyed him for a moment before conceding the point by rolling her eyes. She placed a lingering kiss on his cheek before standing, blushing once more.
"I'll be back," she promised. "Someone has to keep putting that salve on."
"You know, that is exactly what Madam Pomfrey is employed to do."
Katie hummed.
"Maybe I'm just looking for an excuse to be the one to do it," she said with a wink. "As horrible as this has been, I'm not complaining that I've spent most of the week staring at you without a shirt on. I'll be back soon," she finished with a grin before disappearing behind the curtain.
Harry laughed to himself.
The girl had always been trouble since the first day he'd met her, though he knew he shouldn't expect anything less. Still, he was touched by the sentiment of her staying with him.
No one had ever really shown him so much concern before.
Regardless, now that he was alone, his expression darkened.
Someone had interfered in the task and it had almost cost him his life, and that was not something Harry would take lightly.
From here on out, he needed to be more vigilant.
Whomever it was had access to Hogwarts, and such a thought did not sit right with Harry.
Who was it?
His grip tightened around his wand as he pondered the matter, his jaw tightening at the thought of what could have been in that lake.
(Break)
"He is awake, My Lord."
Voldemort nodded his infant head.
"Then you are most fortunate, Barty," he whispered. "If you deviate from the plan once more, I will be left with no choice but to punish you most severely."
"Of course, My Lord," Barty said with a bow, the relief of Potter coming to overriding the prospect. "I will not fail you."
"See that you don't. Now, leave me."
Barty did so, breathing much more freely than he had in the past week. His actions had perhaps been foolish, but he had not anticipated Potter doing what he had.
Despite the warning of his master, he would continue with the plans he'd made within the plan.
With what Potter had proven himself capable of, Barty was taking no chances, especially when Wormtail was all the Dark Lord had in place to ensure his safety.
Removing the vial of blood he's managed to salvage from the shore of the lake, he wondered just how to convince his master to use it instead of his intention to kidnap Harry Potter.
The boy would still be taken to the graveyard as planned, but it should be done when the Dark Lord had completed the ritual and summoned the Death Eaters.
That would be the best option to ensure the traitors would finally receive their comeuppance.
Barty hummed thoughtfully.
He would broach the subject in the coming weeks. He needed Potter to arrive strong enough to deal the damage Barty wished of him, but to inevitably fall to his master.
Nodding to himself, he apparated from the Riddle home to return to his post, glad that the week gone by had finally come to an end with Potter regaining consciousness.
(Break)
Katie had lost track of time and hadn't realised that it was close to 1am when she arrived at the empty Gryffindor Tower. She had hoped to break the news to those waiting for an update on Harry's condition, but there was a part of her that was relieved her housemates had gone to bed already.
As incredibly relieved as she was that Harry was awake, the week had been nothing less than trying, and traumatic.
Witnessing him emerge from the lake so wounded had been the worst experience of her life and looking on as so many fought to save his life was something she would never forget.
Katie was certain she had not even breathed until Harry had opened his eyes to speak the ominous words.
Taking his advice and grimacing at the smell of stale sweat that wafted from her, she immediately headed towards the bathroom where she turned the shower on and removed her clothes.
Taking in her reflection, she shook her head.
Katie's hair was a mess and the circles under her eyes gave her a rather sunken look. What Harry must have thought of her, she dared not contemplate.
Regardless, there was not a thing that would have removed her from his side.
She couldn't leave him like that.
They had grown closer since the night of the ball, though Katie did not realise just how much she thought of him until he had almost been taken away from her.
She choked back a sob as she stood under the cascade of hot water.
There had never been any expectation that there would be more once the Yule Ball had concluded, but they had spent hours after talking by the very lake that had almost ended Harry.
Ever since, they seemed to just seek each other out, for no other reason than to be around another.
It was odd.
Katie knew she was drawn to Harry, yet she couldn't quite understand why.
She enjoyed his company.
Their back-and-forth bantering, the easy smiles they shared, and just being close to him had become one of the things Katie looked forward to.
Nonetheless, she had not realised just how much it had come to mean to her, how much Harry had come to mean to her, only for it all to be dangerously close to being taken away.
She swallowed deeply as she went through the motions of washing her hair, her chest tightening with a sense of doubt.
Did Harry feel the same?
Katie only stood out from other girls because she played Quidditch, and did so really well, something that most boys would not be endeared to.
She did not see herself as particularly feminine, even if she did feel it when she had worn the dress and was led around the dance floor by Harry. Katie preferred the comfort of loose clothing, did not feel the need to wear make-up every day, and had no desire to spend hours in front of the mirror styling her hair.
She didn't come from an important family. A great uncle of hers had played for England, but the Bells were not a line of note.
Harry was famous, and even more so now after his exploits.
He did come from prominent family who had a rich, albeit, mysterious history. Fred and George had told her what they knew of the Potters shortly after Harry had joined the team as a shy, introverted boy.
Oddly, Katie still saw that in him for the most part, though there was no denying how much he had matured.
What was more, all of the things she had considered about the boy seemed to mean absolutely nothing to him.
Harry disliked being famous, and he'd never looked down on any for the circumstances of their birth. He was a half-blood, but he still bore a name even the staunchest of purebloods respected.
Katie shook her head.
She was getting ahead of herself but she knew she could not deny that she was developing strong feelings for Harry, even if they would never be returned.
Why would they be?
Katie had never thought of romance as something she had or would miss in her life. She'd not thought about sharing such a thing with anyone, and yet, when she relived all of the moments with Harry, it was as though a part of her truly hungered for it.
It was confusing to say the least, but also a longing she couldn't deny.
Having finished in the shower, she stepped out and wiped the steam from the windows.
Katie didn't think she was ugly but was still convinced she was perhaps a little too muscular to be considered feminine.
Athletic.
Angelina's admonishment brought a smile to her lips.
Drying her hair with a few waves of her wand, she dressed in some pyjamas, revelling in feeling clean for the first time in several days.
Katie was exhausted and didn't want to think of anything else anymore other than the bed that awaited her.
Despite harbouring that desire, her thoughts inevitably drifted to Harry once more as they often did, though as her heart filled with trepidation, she could not ignore the warmth that came with it.
