CHAPTER 59

Hogwarts stares down at me, as inviting as ever, and I cannot get off the ground of the Forbidden Forest to go to it. The knife is too much—it's too painful to move. This must have been why Bellatrix screamed to me as I Disapparated. With a deep breath—or as deep of a breath as I can manage right now—I grab the hilt and prepare once more to try to remove it to make journeying to the castle more manageable. With gritted teeth, I yank.

White-hot pain blinds me; I shriek through my already raw throat, turn my head to the side, and vomit. Trembling, I release the dagger, giving up on that. Tears flood my eyes.

I lie back and breathe for a few seconds. What is this thing inside me? How did that hurt as badly—worse, almost—than the Cruciatus Curse Bellatrix just inflicted upon me? How is that possible?

Scared to even touch the hilt again, I press my hand against the skin, just beside the puncture wound, and tears start down my face immediately. Coughing, the taste of iron growing stronger on my tongue, a warm wetness in my mouth, I let out a loud wail. I will not die in the forest for some creature to come and eat me.

But dying would be easy.

I release the knife and reach for my wand. Groaning and biting back the shrieks that desperately want their freedom, I push against the closest tree and manage to slowly get to my feet. I can do this. I can do this. All I have to do is get to Madam Pomfrey, for surely she will be able to help me. I Conjure up an iron staff and lean heavily against it, taking careful breaths, trying to figure out the best way to breathe with this knife in my side.

Then, letting the tears fall freely down my face and mix with the blood from my broken nose and torn skin on my neck and cheeks, I begin my journey up to the castle, moving as slowly as possible to prevent more sharp pains in my side.

For well over an hour, I trudge toward the castle, praying I might make it to the safety of the stone walls before dying. I fall four times in my attempt to reach Hogwarts, and each time I lie there for a moment debating whether death would be acceptable, preferable this suffering and what comes next. Only the thoughts of Cruciating my mother until her nose bleeds and her mind breaks and of driving my trusty knife into Snape's chest force me to drag myself to my feet and keep pushing forward. I have never hated anyone the way I hate those two.

Body throbbing in agony, my pulse thumping against every wound, I enter the castle and almost sob because there are so many fucking stairs in this place. Once more, I close my eyes briefly to brace myself for the next part and begin pushing forward. Blood gradually begins filling my mouth, but not wanting to expend the effort or use any of my aching muscles to spit it out, I just let it seep out of its own accord, dripping down the sides of my mouth like a toddler's drool.

My vision begins darkening as I reach the second floor. I'm going to lose consciousness before I can get help.

At that moment, however, a voice rings out. "Rodgers!"

More tears—these of relief—come on fast and strong at the sound of McGonagall's voice. I look to my right and see her swiftly approaching me. "Help," I croak, blood spurting from my mouth.

She waves her wand, and suddenly I'm on my back on a stretcher levitating beside her as she rushes me up the stairs, hopefully to the hospital wing. "What happened to you?"

I turn my head to the side and exhale as hard as possible to send the blood from my mouth without having to use muscles to spit. "Death—Eater." My mother Cruciated me. Sobs threatening—beaten back only by the fear of how badly they will hurt—I reach over and grab her hand, tears spilling freely down my face.

"Poppy!" McGonagall calls as she directs my stretcher into the hospital wing.

The Weasleys, surrounding a bed on which Bill Weasley sleeps, turn toward me, horror on their faces when they lay eyes on me. What a sight I must be, covered in blood and sweat and dirt from the forest. McGonagall waves her wand and transfers me to a bed—try as I might to be silent, pathetic whimpers escape. With a wave of her wand, my nose pops back into place from where I smashed it against the manor floor. Madam Pomfrey leaves Neville's bedside to stand over me. "Please—get it—out." Pomfrey takes the knife's handle and pulls, but the blade widens inside me and digs even deeper, only my sudden cries of pain forcing her to release the hilt.

McGonagall and Pomfrey share a quick look. "What happened?" McGonagall asks me gently.

"Death—Eater," I breathe. "Doesn't—matter—just—get it—out!" Pomfrey waves her wand, and my robes rip open around the knife to reveal my midriff. Black lines spread out from the wound, almost like veins, covering the whole of my stomach. My breathing becomes fast and short as a panic begins to set in. What if they can't get it out? Is this how I die?

"Drink this." Pomfrey shoves a potion into my hand, and I obey without any complaint. It tastes sweet, the same potion she gave me last year to put me to sleep, but rather than putting me to sleep, my insides catch fine, and I can't stop my loud cries. The black lines branching from the entry wound where the knife digs into me grow longer and begin swelling.

"Merlin," McGonagall mutters.

Though terrified to look, I can't stop myself from glancing back down. Tiny spikes have now sprung from the blade. I throw my head back and let myself weep. "What's—happening?" Breathing and speaking both now hurt, and I watch the ceiling, fearing the worst, my chest rising and falling too fast to really be able to enjoy and appreciate the air in my lungs.

"It's cursed," Pomfrey says, and I don't know if she's speaking to me or not, can't bring myself to look anywhere but the ceiling. Doing anything else will break my determination to hold back my wails of agony. "Minerva, this is designed to cause pain. Anything to lessen the pain or to put her to sleep will only cause more."

I whimper, and someone takes my hand.

"What do we do?" McGonagall asks quietly.

Pomfrey is silent, and for a moment my mind wanders to Snape. If this knife is indeed tainted with Dark Magic, he'd be the person who could solve this—I should have stayed at Spinner's End—but he's not here anymore. He's betrayed me. Another sob breaks through, blood spewing from my mouth as I do, the taste of iron becoming more prominent. Mrs. Weasley is suddenly beside Pomfrey, looking down at me with motherly concern that tears my heart in two. My own mother Cruciated me just minutes ago. Would she be able to remove this blade?

The Dark Lord probably could.

I'd almost be willing to serve him loyally if he were to rid me of this horror. Ask them to Apparate you to him, and he'll do something. Surely he can do something. He doesn't want me to die, he's made that clear.

I try to take another breath and begin coughing up blood, that metallic taste on my tongue becoming overwhelming and beginning to frighten me more. "Professor—Snape—take—"

"Did he do this to you?" McGonagall nearly shrieks.

"No—he'll—help—"

"Hush," she says gently, probably unaware that I know exactly what he's done and just do not care right now because I know in my heart of hearts that he can and would help me. "Poppy, what can we do?"

"Am I—going—to die?" I wheeze.

"No!" McGonagall assures me. "No, we won't let you die tonight too."

"Get—it—out." When none of them make a move, I reach my trembling right arm across my body, trying to reach the knife's hilt, but the shaking is so severe that before I can even get close to reaching it, McGonagall pulls my hand back and pins it to the bed. I whimper again. "Please."

"Charlotte, it's going to fight us, we have to find another way," Mrs. Weasley says soothingly, her hand on my shoulder.

The three women standing over me talk in hushed tones, and I can't hear them for the blood rushing in my ears. The next deep breath I try taking sends me into a panic—I can't take a real breath anymore. Blood spurts from mouth again. "I—I can't—I can't breathe," I struggle out.

McGonagall leans into my line of sight. "You need to brace yourself."

With an unsteady hand, I pull the neck of my robes into my mouth and bite down. Then I close my eyes and nod slightly.

"We don't have time—we'll have to pull it out. Minerva, you need to do it, it's going to be difficult," Pomfrey says. "I need every spare second to try closing this wound once the blade is gone. Molly, get this into her mouth as soon as you can." She hands Mrs. Weasley a vial, and the bed I'm on lowers slightly to the floor, giving McGonagall better leverage.

McGonagall pats my arm gently, then takes the handle of the knife firmly in both hands. The hilt grows longer, and two more hands cover the new area. My eyes drift to see Tonks there assisting McGonagall. With one sharp movement and a loud grunt of effort from the both of them, they pull the knife as hard as they can. It rips free, tearing the flesh from my body. I scream with my mouth still shut. Mrs. Weasley pulls the robes from my mouth, sticks the vial against my lips, and pours it down my throat.

My eyes drift to the knife, the blade as long as my hand now, each spike holding a chunk of bloody flesh and muscle. Pomfrey pours a potion into my torn side and casts a spell over the wound.

Before losing consciousness, I hear Pomfrey say, "We need to move her to St. Mungo's as quickly as possible."

I see flashes of witches and wizards around me, all of them talking in frustrated tones, but I cannot stay awake long enough to register what's being said or whether I know any of the speakers or even know where I am. The only certain thing is that they keep putting vials at my lips for me to drink and pouring something on my side that burns miserably. I never fight them. Perhaps sleep is the best way to avoid facing this sharp ache in my side, one that only intensifies with each breath.

My body shifts to the left, and I crack open my eyes slowly to see someone sitting on the edge of the bed I'm lying on. My eyes drift back shut of their own accord seconds later, and I force them open again. The room is poorly lit, or perhaps it's nighttime. The person, their head bent over, staring down at my torso, is silhouetted by soft light behind them, obscuring their face. They sniffle, then exhale shakily. A cold hand touches my side, pouring a liquid of some kind where the knife once was, and I sigh in relief that the touch does not burn. They lift their head, and my gaze meets the familiar black eyes of Severus Snape. I flinch, heart rate increasing, my eyes shutting in preparation for pain that never comes. When I open them again seconds later, Snape is gone, and my wound burns once more. Was he even here at all?

Or do I just wish he were because he's likely the only one who can take this burning away?

When I finally wake long enough to hold my eyes open for more than a few seconds, it's dark outside. Someone sleeps curled up in the small chair by the window, a blanket covering them. I fall back asleep before I can see who it is.

The next time I wake up, a hoarse voice says, "Oh, thank Merlin, you're alive."

I look over and meet Zoe's gaze, tears in her eyes. She slides the chair closer to the bed, takes my hand in hers, and presses her forehead to the back of my hand. "I thought I'd lost you." She takes a shaky breath before looking back up at me. I offer her a weak smile. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Water," I croak, painfully sitting up the best I can, pausing at the twinge in my side and continuing only after giving myself a chance to adjust.

Zoe rushes to oblige me. As I steadily drink a cup of water, she says, "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? Sore. It hurts to move. And kind of hurts to breathe."

Once she hears that, she takes the cup from me and puts it to my lips herself. "You've been asleep for four days."

I close my eyes and process this for a moment.

"McGonagall's been by twice. How did you get her to care so much about your well-being? Anyway, she said she might try coming again, but things are hectic at Hogwarts now. She had to take over as headmistress. Dumbledore was killed by Death Eaters."

"I know," I whisper. "A Death Eater did this to me."

She grimaces. "Well, I'm actually surprised Snape hasn't come to check up on you. You're his star pupil, right? You seem to have an unconventional friendship."

I begin to cry. "I shouldn't have trusted him, Zoe."

"Did he do this to you?"

I shake my head and breathe, "He killed Dumbledore."

"WHAT?" She flinches at her own loudness and glances around the empty room as if someone could have heard her through the walls. "How certain of this are you?"

"Very."

"But why—"

"I don't know anything beyond the fact that he was the one who actually cast the spell."

Our conversation dies quickly when we hear the door open. In walk Mrs. Weasley and Tonks and even Andromeda. "You're awake!" Andromeda rejoices.

I smile at them weakly, tears springing into my eyes as I look at Andromeda and remember my mother torturing me, the look on her face as my hands tightened around her neck. My lips start quivering, and I have to look away from her, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes and beginning to sob.

"Charlotte, what's wrong?" Zoe says softly, her hand on my shoulder.

My body trembles, fearful that if I let myself hiccough, the pain in my side will be unbearable. "Bella—Bellatrix tortured me." Despite my best efforts, the hiccoughs force their way out, and I press my hand into my side to try to stifle the ache that comes with each raggedy breath. "Cru—Cruciated me. I—I—I almost—almost str-strangled her."

Andromeda is by me in an instant, her arm around my shoulders. Covering my face with one hand and pressing the other into my side to fight the aches, I lean against her and cry. "You're safe now," she says gently.

But for how long? My chest constricts. "We—we had been—had become cl-close," I stutter. "I—I—I th-thought I lov-loved her. I-I thought she lov-loved me."

Andromeda sighs sympathetically. "Oh, Charlotte," she just says. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

They all remain silent until I've gotten control of myself again. Andromeda releases me but keeps her hand on my shoulder. "Do you know when I'll be able to go back to Hogwarts?" I whisper, not trusting my voice right now.

Mrs. Weasley looks at me sadly. "The term is over, dear. Yesterday—yesterday, they buried Dumbledore. The students went home."

I swallow. "So . . . he's really gone then? Bellatrix wasn't lying?"

Tonks nods solemnly.

I close my eyes. This could have been prevented had I just told McGonagall or Dumbledore that Snape is a Death Eater. Dumbledore is dead because of my inaction. And I no longer have anyone to help me escape my duty to the Dark Lord. I've fucked everything up.

"Charlotte," Andromeda says kindly, "do you want to talk about what happened?"

I exhale. "Bellatrix took me with her after Dumbledore—after they killed him. Her Dark Lord wasn't happy that she took me away from Hogwarts where it was safe for me. So he . . . punished her." I look at Zoe, almost wishing she'd leave and not hear what my own mother did to me. I then look down at my hands. "He forced her to choose . . . between Cruciating him and Cruciating me." My lower lip trembles. "She chose me." I wipe the fresh tears before they have a chance to fall. "He wouldn't let her stop. Nearly—nearly seven minutes." Mrs. Weasley closes her eyes. I inhale slowly. "He told me to return to Hogwarts, then left. Bellatrix—I tried to get away and . . . she put her wand down—I lunged." Tonks eyebrows rise. "I tried—I pinned her and tried to strangle her. She"—I rub my hand across my cheeks and neck but feel no abrasions—"she clawed . . ." I shut my eyes tightly and shake my head. "I stopped, and another Death Eater came in. She told me to run, and I Disapparated. She screamed as I left, and I landed at—" They don't need to know I went to Snape's house. "I landed in the forest with a knife in my side."

"Did she throw a knife at you?" Tonks asks. "Like she did the plate?"

I shake my head. "No, it was the other Death Eater."

Mrs. Weasley rubs my leg comfortingly, but before she has a chance to say anything, a man I've never met enters the room. I assume he's a Healer. "Ah, Miss Rodgers," he greets me, "you gave us all a fright."

"Sorry."

He smiles, then looks at the others in the room. "Am I to assume that one of you is her mother or guardian?"

"No," I say.

"I'm going to have to ask the rest of you to step out of the room."

"We'll be just outside, Charlotte," Tonks says.

As Andromeda moves away from me, I grab her forearm and look up at her. "I'm of age, but she has my permission to stay," I say quietly. She takes my hand in hers.

He nods, and once the door closes, he says, "You may call me Jonathan. I'm afraid you'll have a nasty scar where that knife impaled you."

"Because of the curse?"

He nods, then pulls a potion out of his pocket. "You'll need to apply this once a day." He reaches for my side and pulls the clothes back to reveal a large white bandage. Then he pulls that back. My side has been closed back up, but the skin is an angry red and the place where the blade pierced me rises above the rest of the skin around it. While the black lines are still there, they don't reach as far as they once had and are not swollen as they were the last time I saw them. "This potion will draw out the pain until the last effects of the curse are gone. This is going to be cold." He pours some of the potion onto the raised flesh, and I gasp. "Sorry," he says with a smile. "Rub it in."

With a shaking hand I follow his instruction, whimpering because it's so tender. Andromeda gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"The soreness will fade." He bandages it back.

"When can I leave?" Even though I have nowhere to go.

"Tomorrow, if all goes well. But you'll need to monitor your healing closely, and if anything changes, you must return immediately."

I nod, agreeing to the terms. Then he leaves, and Zoe re-enters with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. "I can leave tomorrow depending on how everything goes."

"That's good news," Tonks says, smiling the best she can under the circumstances.

Not long after, once it becomes clear that staying awake is not easy for me, they decide it's time to leave. Andromeda watches me, sorrow in her eyes. "Will you be fine here alone?"

"I'll stay with her," Zoe says. My aunt smiles at her, squeezes her upper arm in thanks, kisses my temple, and leaves with Tonks and Mrs. Weasley.

"You don't have to stay."

"Of course I do."

"What about the Three Broomsticks?"

"I explained to Rosmerta that you're in here, and she said to take as much time as I need. It pays to be friends with the boss."

"Well, I certainly appreciate it."

"I guess that painting of me liberating you from Snape and Hogwarts is kind of a moot point now, isn't it?"

I chuckle in spite of myself, then groan at the pain. "It would certainly seem that way."

"Such a shame."

A sadness suddenly weighs down on my chest. Snape betrayed me. And Dumbledore.

Snape knows everything about me, and he's loyal to the Dark Lord, which means He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will soon know everything about me. I take a moment to admire Zoe's honey eyes. At least Snape never knew my true feelings for her. The Dark Lord would surely kill a Muggle-born who is important to me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks.

"Just . . . thinking about how lucky I am that you care enough to be here with me."

She smiles.

The Healer named Jonathan only returns once more to check on me before I'm too exhausted to stay awake any longer. When he leaves, I slide over on the small bed. Zoe takes the cue and crawls under the sheets with me. I turn toward her, my hand under the pillow to prop up my head. She does the same. "I . . . I thought you were dead," she says quietly. "The Healers didn't know if you'd make it. There was so much Dark Magic running through you, they thought it was only a matter of time before your body succumbed."

"Well, I didn't die," I say with a half-smile.

She takes my free hand. "They said there'd be a scar."

"Yeah."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sore, but I'm sure that'll go away eventually."

Tears prick my eyes. "Marcus, what's wrong?"

"How am I supposed to face this now that Snape—" I can't even bring myself to say it aloud.

Zoe wipes the tear from my cheek. She doesn't remove her hand from my face, and I cover that hand with mine. "Well, even though Snape might be gone now, you won't be alone." I smile sadly. "You'll have me, in case that wasn't clear," she adds with a wink.

"No, I understood. I'm just trying to decide if that's good or bad."

"Shut up."

I scoot closer to her until our foreheads are touching. I close my eyes and just let myself enjoy our closeness. Then I feel her lips press against mine for just a second. I open my eyes once more and smile at her.

I don't ever want anything to happen to her.

Snape never knew how much I actually care about her, so he won't be able to tell his precious Dark Lord. And Snape taught me well enough that I don't have to worry about him finding out from me. The thought sends a jolt of joy through me. A few moments later I ask, "You'll be here when I wake up?"

"Is that even a question worth asking?"

"Right." I close my eyes, but before letting my exhaustion take over, I kiss her briefly once more.