(HBP) CHAPTER THREE: Merida Fowler

When Ellie landed with a sharp thud onto the cold kitchen floor of 12 Grimmauld Place, it was beneath the scrambling, thrashing body of Peter Pettigrew.

"Get him off her!" she heard Fred shout. "Restrain him!"

She tried to look around, but she was having trouble making out anything. The bright stadium lights they'd used in the basement had taken their toll on her vision; her eyes were dry and damaged, and the soft, dim lighting of 12 Grimmauld Place at night wasn't enough for them anymore.

She felt the weight of Peter being pulled off her, then heard someone shout, "Incarcerous!"—Lupin, she was fairly certain, though her ears seemed to be filled with blood—and then, "Got him!"

"El." This, of course, was Fred. She felt her torso being lifted ever so slightly, and then felt the calming embrace of Fred's arms around her. "You're okay, baby. You're safe. Can you hear me?"

His face, she could see. He was crying.

"I can hear you," she whispered. But her voice came out hoarse and scratchy.

"Bloody hell," breathed a blurry figure from behind him. Bright blue hair. Tonks. "Someone get the girl a blanket, already!"

Right—she was naked. That was unfortunate.

"Someone get a stretcher!" shouted Sirius. "We need to get her to St. Mungo's!"

"Molly's already gone to get both." Arthur. "Here, Fred—see if she'll have some water."

Fred hastily accepted the glass of water his father handed him, then lifted it carefully to Ellie's lips.

Given that it had been somewhere between four and five weeks since she'd had a sip, she chugged it in seconds.

"Someone get Peter to the Ministry," she said as soon as she was finished. Her voice sounded marginally better now. "Before he escapes again."

"But—but—I was good to you!" wailed Peter. "I never hurt you! Tell them—tell your dad—"

But the thud of a fist to his face shut him right up.

"Never hurt her?" Ellie heard her father bellow. "Look at her! You could have prevented this, you filthy coward! You could have helped her!"

"I'll take him to the Ministry," said Arthur. "We'll tell them she showed up to the Burrow with him."

"Make way—make way!" Molly shouted from the hall as Arthur grabbed the struggling Peter and made his departure. "Oh, for Heaven's sake—put this on the poor girl!"

She felt one of Fred's arms leave her for the briefest instant, and then a blanket was being wrapped around her.

"El," Fred said softly. "We have to pick you up now. It's too dangerous to try and use magic on you and risk activating your shield. Sirius is going to help me. Okay?"

She nodded, closed her eyes, and allowed them to lift her onto the stretcher.

"It's not far at all to St. Mungo's," Sirius told her as the stretcher, with her on it, floated into the air between him and Fred. "Kingsley parked his Ministry car a few streets over. We'll be there before you know it."

"Not you," she said as they neared the front door. "Not until it's a done deal."

"Ellie." It was even darker here than in the kitchen, and she was still having trouble making out his face, but she could hear the pain in his voice. "I don't care if they send me back to Azkaban for the rest of my life. I'm coming."

That, more than anything else, told Ellie just how bad she looked—and how afraid he was that she was going to die.

Don't say that, Fred said in her head. Don't you dare say that, Ellie. You're going to be fine.

Only Kingsley, Fred, and Sirius left 12 Grimmauld Place. Kingsley led the herd, watching carefully for onlookers, as Sirius and Fred walked on either side of the magically floating stretcher, each of them holding one of her hands.

It was nice, she thought as she closed her eyes. If she had to die, she liked the thought of it happening while she was holding the hands of the two people she loved the most in the world.

"Don't," Fred repeated out loud. He was crying again. Neither Sirius nor Fred seemed capable of looking at her for more than a few seconds without crying. "Keep your eyes open. Focus on us. Stay awake."

Reluctantly, she did as she was told. She saw Sirius glance at Fred, then at her. If he was still confused by their mind link, he didn't show it.

"So," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "What's new with you two?"

They exchanged a sarcastic look as they came to a stop at the Ministry SUV that was waiting for them. Kingsley opened up the trunk and, with one last glance to make sure no one was watching, guided her stretcher into it. Fred climbed in next to her while Sirius and Kingsley headed for the front seats.

"Your O.W.L. results came," Sirius told Ellie as Kingsley started to drive. There was an opening between the trunk and the rest of the car—she could still hear him fairly well, though she couldn't see him from the stretcher. "They sent them to your mum's. You did great."

She was more than a little surprised by that. "Even in Astronomy?"

"Well… no," Sirius admitted. "You got a Poor there. But I got a Dreadful, so don't let it get to you."

"Fred and I both got Trolls," Fred told her with a small grin. "We just drew pictures of the Slytherin team in various states of peril on our star charts."

Ellie actually laughed at that. It hurt so badly that she had to clutch her chest, but it also felt incredible. She hadn't laughed in a long time.

"Outstandings in Charms, Defence, and Care of Magical Creatures," Sirius continued. "Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration and Potions, and Acceptable in Herbology and History of Magic."

That really was great, she mused with a small smile. Especially considering the year she'd had.

Fred's expression darkened at hearing that particular thought in her head.

"What else?" she asked. "Were the Ministry and the Prophet honest about my disappearance?"

"They were honest, if a bit quiet about it," Sirius told her. "Been spending most of their time and energy telling people about Harry being The Chosen One—more of an uplifting subject than The People's Princess being kidnapped."

"Your following knows, of course," said Fred grimly. "And cares quite a bit."

"Indeed," said Kingsley cheerfully. "There's a parade of young witches outside the Ministry every day now, waving signs that say variations of 'Free Ellie Black.'"

Ellie grimaced.

"Fudge resigned," offered Kingsley. "We've got Rufus Scrimgeour now as Minister. Step above Fudge, to be sure—ex-Auror and claims to be tough on Dark wizards—but we'll see."

That was, something, Ellie supposed. "What's this about Harry being the 'Chosen One?' Does it have to do with the Prophecy Voldemort asked me about?"

Everyone in the car remained silent for several seconds. Fred had known, of course, that she had been tortured by Voldemort directly, and he had probably shared that information with the rest of the Order. She supposed hearing it said out loud by her must be different.

"We don't know the details," Fred told her. "I don't think anyone but Harry and Dumbledore knows, and since the prophecy smashed, there's no way of finding out unless they share. But the people are saying that Harry is destined to kill Voldemort—that it's sort of like his life's purpose."

Ellie nodded grimly. Poor Harry.

"We're here," Kingsley said as he pulled up to the emergency drop-off area of St. Mungo's. "You'd better take her in without me—I've got to get this car out of here before someone in the Ministry realizes I was involved."

"Of course," said Sirius, hopping out of the front seat and heading to the trunk to help Fred guide her stretcher out.

She glanced up at her father, trying to deduce whether or not his face was recognizable from the wanted posters. His hair and beard were shorter and cleaner, of course, and his eyes were far less manic.

He was still him, though. And she was terrified of losing him.

"Just change into a dog," she begged him. "Please, Dad."

He held her gaze for several seconds, looking reluctant.

"I can handle things," Fred promised him. "Don't make her watch her father get arrested at a time like this."

Reluctantly—and just in time for the healers from the emergency wing of St. Mungo's to run outside—Sirius changed into his dog form.

"This is Ellie Black," Fred told the healers as soon as they reached them. "She was held prisoner and tortured by Death Eaters for five weeks."

"Perelli charm," the head healer said to the others. She nodded at Fred. "Merida Fowler sent an owl ahead to us—said she'll be joining us via Floo Network in a matter of minutes. In the meantime—let's get her inside."

Fred nodded, passing off the charming of Ellie's stretcher to one of the healers and following the group through the doors of the building.

"What were the conditions like?" the head healer asked them as they traveled. "Food? Water?"

"Neither," said Fred. "We assume her shield provided her some sort of sustenance, in order for her to… survive… for that long."

His voice broke on the word survive, and fresh tears sprung to his eyes.

"The burns and wounds on her skin," the healer continued. They had reached a room by then, and were funneling into it. "Am I correct in inferring that her shield was done in completely by the volume of attacks?"

"I don't think so." Fred glanced at Ellie. "Only in certain places, I think. Right?"

She nodded, though she didn't feel remotely like an expert on the subject.

"Okay," said the healer. She leaned over Ellie then, scanning her injuries carefully. "Ellie, on a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in right now?"

She actually laughed at that. She didn't mean to be rude, but it felt like such a ridiculous question. She would have called her pain prior to being captured a ten; what number even began to describe what she was feeling now?

"Consider her off the charts," Fred said through clenched teeth.

And with that, he and Sirius were ushered out.

At some point during her treatment, Ellie passed out again. She hoped to see Fred in her dreams, but he must have been too anxious to fall asleep, because instead she spent those several hours alone, reliving the worst moments of the past month and a half.

She woke up with a jolt around the time Voldemort showed up in her nightmare.

"Good," said a voice she didn't recognize. "You're awake."

Ellie squinted up at the woman as her heartbeat gradually slowed back to its normal rate. Ellie's vision must have improved with the treatment, because she was able to make her out without difficulty. The woman was much older than any of the other healers in the place—probably in her late seventies or even early eighties—but looked healthy and strong for her age, with thick, white hair that she wore in a tidy, French braid and horn-rimmed glasses that perched at the tip of her nose.

"El," said Fred from next to the woman. "This is Merida Fowler—the healer who treated Rupert Bowman."

Ellie had guessed as much. She smiled politely at the woman and said, "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

The woman nodded diplomatically. "I didn't feel I had a choice in the matter. Most injuries and suffering that are tied to too much power are the fault of that witch or wizard. I have little sympathy for them, since their pain is a direct result of their greed. With the Perelli charm, though, it is a result of the greed of their parents'."

Ellie instinctively glanced down at Sirius, who was sitting next to Fred. The great, black dog looked down at the ground, seemingly ashamed.

"It was meant to protect her," said Fred, surprising her. It was rare those days that he defended anything Sirius did; the two had different opinions of how best to protect Ellie. "It had nothing to do with greed."

Merida gave another short nod, then changed the subject. "As you can see, the resident healers have gotten the burns and surface wounds under control. We've given her several potions that will restore her nutrients and re-hydrate her, though we'll have to monitor her intake of food and water in the coming days carefully, since her bladder and stomach have shrunken quite a bit since she was captured. Her eyes were seriously damaged, as well, but we've treated them and expect them to make a full recovery within the month."

None of this really interested Ellie; she wanted to know about the shield and its effects on her lifespan.

"Now," Merida said to Ellie, reaching for the counter next to her and lifting something. It was a set of two thin, black, metal cuffs that almost looked like armour. "These vambraces are made of a magical alloy that merges several metallic substances together with several magical ones. Their purpose is to charge up magical power—almost like a Muggle battery."

Ellie stared down at the vambraces with wide eyes. "A battery?"

"Indeed. Every time you use your shield, it drains a dangerous amount of magic from within you. The pain you're feeling—the bleeds you're suffering from—they're all signs that your body is being drained dry of its magical energy. Frankly, it's astounding that, after all you've been through, there's any left at all; you must have an exceptional amount of magic within you."

"So… she's supposed to wear them?" Fred asked.

"The choice is hers, but I would strongly recommend it. It'll take some getting used to—the vambraces have small spikes that will have to connect to her arteries 24/7—but that's the only way to ensure that her blood has enough magic for the shield to pull from at any given moment."

"Where does this magic come from?" Ellie asked, sensing that Fred wasn't quite ready to come to terms with the fact that she would have to walk around with needles in her skin for the rest of her life. "I mean, who charges it up?"

"Anyone can. I would even recommend that several people do. Once in the morning should be enough to get you by on a normal day, but if there is even a chance of dangerous situations arising, more than once would be safer."

More than once a day, she would have to ask multiple people to "charge her up?" It was embarrassing. Humiliating, even.

"How does the charging work?" asked Fred.

"In short, by casting spells directly at the cuffs. If you choose to go this route, I'll teach you some of the better spells to cast for charging purposes. In general, though, the rule is the stronger the spell, the stronger the charge."

"Can I hold one?" Ellie asked.

Merida nodded, handing one of the sleek, black cuffs over to Ellie. "Watch your fingers," she said, then tapped the cuff with her wand and murmured an incantation.

A series of small, needle-like points sprung from the inside of the cuff, moving like tiny snakes as they sought out the arteries that didn't yet exist inside them.

Merida tapped the cuff again to send the needles back inside the cuff.

"Could someone manage to break them?" Fred asked Merida. "And if they did, would it hurt her?"

"It's certainly possible—and yes, if they were ripped from her, it would probably cause serious tears to her arteries. But given that they make her shield stronger, the likelihood of someone getting to them is slim."

"I don't understand," said Ellie. "Why are we trying to make my shield stronger? Isn't its strength kind of the whole problem here?"

Merida smiled sadly. "An excellent question, Miss Black. These vambraces should keep your shield from doing further damage to you, but unfortunately, they will do nothing to alleviate or cure the pain and damage your shield has already done to you."

"But…" Fred sounded horrified. "But she's got all the symptoms. Doesn't that mean…?"

"She is, indeed, dangerously close to death. I wish I could promise you that my invention will keep her from reaching it—and it is possible—but with her symptoms as far along as they are, there are unfortunately no guarantees."

Sirius began to pace restlessly around the room, whining in painfully high-pitched dog tones.

"Surely there's something you can do," Fred pleaded. "Some other way."

"There is," Merida confirmed, "advice I can give you. Whether you take it is entirely up to you."

"Please."

"Use the vambraces. Take a few weeks her to let her injuries heal. Then travel to Paris and find Matis Dupont at the French Ministry of Magic. He's a renowned magical researcher. He never worked with Bowman directly, but he developed quite the fixation with him following his death. He'd be quite fascinated to meet Ellie, and hopefully as inclined to help her."

Again, Fred looked hesitant. He glanced at Ellie, lips pressed tightly together. "Is this what you want?"

She wasn't sure how she felt about visiting a magical researcher who would find her "fascinating," nor the fact that he was employed at the French version of an organization she despised, but she was sure about the cuffs.

"Do it," she said to Merida. "Please. And we'll figure out the rest later."

In order to put the cuffs—or, as Merida called them, vambraces—onto Ellie, Merida enchanted Ellie into a very deep sleep.

At that point, Fred finally joined her.

"I couldn't watch," he told her as he curled up next to her on their blankets. They were on the rooftop again, surrounded by nothing but purple, dreamy clouds. "Those things are like torture devices, El. Are you sure about this?"

"What's the alternative?" she asked as she snuggled up into his chest. "Die?"

He stiffened beneath her. "I told you I wasn't going to let you die. Do you believe me now?"

"I always believed you, Fred."

But to that, he said nothing.

She lifted her head from his chest at that, peering up at him. "What?"

"I… failed you," he said softly.

"Failed me?" she repeated, sitting up straight. "How? By seeking out the one person capable of fixing me? By giving me enough power to escape in the first place?"

"You were there for five weeks, El! You were tortured for five weeks! Do you understand what you look like right now—what you looked like when you crashed into the floor at Grimmauld Place? Do you understand that for a second after you appeared, I actually thought you were dead?"

His voice was starting to sound manic—even haunted. She placed both of her hands on his, trying to calm him. "It wasn't your fault, Fred."

"Of course, it was my fault! If I hadn't left, none of this would have happened! You wouldn't have spent all year pushing your limits—going after Death Eaters and—and—"

He was crying again. She had never seen him like this—utterly devastated. It made her heart twist and ache with the desire to help him stop hurting.

"Aleks and Voldemort were after me long before you left," she reminded him, moving her hands from his hands to his face. "For all we know, it would have gone exactly the same way if you had stayed."

He didn't seem to believe her, but he seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Slowly, his tears lessened. "If you had died," he whispered, shaking his head, "I…"

But he couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

She understood. It was the same way she had felt in that graveyard with Fred and Cedric. She hadn't wanted to lose either of them, but even the thought of losing Fred was too much to even contemplate.

"I'm not going to die," she told him. "We'll go to Paris, we'll meet this Dupont bloke, and we'll get me fixed up."

He took a deep breath, then, finally, nodded. "Okay. But for now, you need to rest."

So Merida definitely helped, but Ellie isn't out of the woods just yet! Who doesn't love a good trip to Paris? We still have one more recovery chapter before the Paris trip, so stay tuned for that, and don't forget to review and follow!