Well of Shadows
An Aftermath of Shadow
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Seven
~ An Aftermath of Shadow ~
Harry's head hurt. Over the past few years he had become quite familiar with the feeling of having something like a troop of inebriated Scottish dancers thumping around within his skull. This was
another one of those times.
His temples were pounding rhythmically with every beat of his heart. Even though he was standing perfectly still, Harry struggled against the rolling waves of dizziness and nausea that assaulted him. Muscles he hadn't known he had were aching dully and his mouth was drier than Percy's sense of humour.
After everything that had happened there was nothing strange about Harry feeling this way. What was strange, however, was the fact that Harry was obviously completely and utterly unconscious and yet he was still feeling the after-effects of his duel with Draco Malfoy. He knew that he had to be unconscious by the simple fact that he was currently standing in the centre of the Grand Hall of the Phoenix, its shimmering classical columns rising up on either side, disappearing into the haze that hid the ceiling far above.
"Gawd my head hurts."
Harry turned to look at Ginny, who standing beside him and swaying on her feet. He would have nodded his agreement to her pained complaint, but his own head immediately began threatening to fall off should he so much as try. Gritting his teeth Harry closed his eyes and tried to force the rising nausea back down.
*Don't worry about it too much,* came a familiar voice from behind them.
The two weary teens whipped around, or rather turned as slowly as they could to minimize the throbbing of their heads. Standing before them, looking particularly grave, was Merlin. His normally compassionate features were grimly set and his appearance was that of his later years rather than the youthful twenties he usually portrayed himself as being.
*The nausea you're feeling should pass soon enough,* he explained in a clipped voice, clearly impatient to spend time worrying about their physical condition. His stroked a hand along his jaw line, thumbing his white-speckled beard before continuing, *It's merely a lingering effect of the battle you've just fought. Whatever physical injuries you've suffered have in all likelihood already been dealt with by the Hogwarts staff.*
"What happened?" asked Harry, noticing that none of the other members of the Order had appeared within the confines of the Grand Hall of the Phoenix.
*What do you remember?*
Both teenagers exchanged a look, then Ginny turned back to Merlin and shrugged. "The last thing I can recall is the ceiling starting to collapse."
Merlin nodded in agreement and elaborated, *The Well was using some sort of Translocation magic to leave Hogwarts' boundaries. It disrupted the ether until there was a catastrophic backwash of magical energy, hence the explosion. You were able to contain most of it, but enough managed to force its way through your combined Shield Charms.*
"What about the cold we felt?" asked Harry, rubbing his arms as he recalled the wintry chill that had descended over him in those final moments before he lost consciousness.
*We'll explain that shortly,* Merlin stated, waving them in the direction of a large and ornately decorated oak door set in to one side of the Grand Hall. *The other members of the Order are waiting inside for us.*
Harry started to follow Merlin as the elderly-looking wizard led the way. Surprisingly enough he found that Merlin had been right and that the dizziness that had first assaulted him was rapidly fading, although the queasy tremors in his stomach were still making themselves known.
As they crossed the luminescent white marble floor, Harry glanced at Ginny and saw that she too looked better, although at the same time apprehensive. He reached out and grasped her hand in his, smiling reassuringly when she looked at him. She returned his smile with a tremulous one and together they stepped through the wide door Merlin was holding open for them.
Now this is interesting, he observed, his eyebrows climbing almost to his hairline.
~Certainly does look familiar~ agreed Ginny as she swept her gaze over the room.
It was a perfectly circular room and --Harry could not stop a small smile at the thought-- it looked just like the room he had always imagined being used by the Knights of the Round Table. The walls were made of large, roughly hewn stone blocks that dwarfed those used in the construction of Hogwarts. Dozens of brightly coloured and elaborately decorated pennants hung from the walls, interspersed with impressive coats of arms. And everything, the walls, the ceiling, the banners and even the massive oak table in the centre, was suffused with a soft glow of mystical force.
*Except for the iridescence,* confirmed Merlin, smiling properly for the first time since they had arrivved, *this is an exact replica of the room Arthur and those crazy knights of his used to play around in.*
Harry and Ginny crossed to where two empty seats were waiting for them. Merlin strode over to the other side of the table, opposite them, and sat in the only other empty place. It was quite a gathering assembled at the Round Table: all of the currently active members of the Order. They were all there, all the voices that Harry and Ginny were familiar with, sitting and waiting with grim expressions for them to arrive.
"So," began Harry, resting his elbows on the tabletop and clasping his hands together, "could somebody please explain to Ginny and me just what in the billions of bilious blue blistering barnacles is going on?
*The Well of Shadows has returned.*
Harry glanced at Ginny out the corner of his eye and saw that her reaction mirrored his. As far as answers went, this one was almost as nebulous and unclear as one given by Dumbledore. Ginny, obviously less than pleased with this lack of detail, settled in her seat and crossed her arms. "O-kay," she said sarcastically, "that clears up everything."
"All right," tried Harry, leaning forward to rest his chin on his clasped hands, "on a scale of one to ten, one being a minor headache, ten being the end of the world and all life on earth, how bad is this?"
*On a scale of one to ten...* Merlin trailed off ominously.
*Twenty,* declared Romulus.
His brother, Remus, nodded and then unfortunately added, *Maybe more.*
Harry's hands dropped to the table as his head turned so that he could lock eyes with Ginny. Her normally warm coffee-coloured eyes were wide and filled with unease. She swallowed and then licked her lips before reaching to take his hand in hers once again. Harry squeezed her hand and turned to face the waiting members of the Order.
"Start talking."
***
She was lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing.
Ginny did not even need to open her eyes to know this. All she needed to do in order to learn where she lay was listen to Harry's low and resigned thoughts on the subject.
~Why can't I ever wake up after a fight and not be in the Hospital Wing?~
What about at the beginning of last summer? asked Ginny, slowly opening her eyes and confirming that she was indeed ensconced in the school infirmary. After that bastard shot you, you woke up in Ron's bed.
Turning her head to the right, based on her feeling the magic trilling like phoenix song in that direction, Ginny saw that Harry was lying on the bed next to hers. His hair was an absolute mess, even worse than was normal, and his face was marred by the startling sight of two very black and blue encircled eyes.
"You look like a raccoon," she said, breaking into a grin.
"So do you," retorted Harry, arching an eyebrow at her.
Any further byplay they had was cut short by the appearance of Madam Pomfrey, who bustled into the space between their beds. The Hogwarts nurse leaned over to look at Ginny first, her brow puckered in a frown.
"Are you all right, Miss Weasley?" she asked, her voice hinting at a lack of rest.
"I can't remember the last time I was hit that hard," stated Ginny. After a moment's thought, she was forced to admit, "In fact, come to think of it... I can't remember ever being hit that hard."
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Quite understandable, you literally had a tonne of bricks fall on you."
She turned away from Ginny and gave Harry a quick going over, ascertaining that he wasn't on the cusp of dying any time soon. Satisfied, she turned to the small nightstand resting between the two beds and picked up a pair of flasks.
"Here, drink this," she directed Ginny, handing her one of the flasks, filled an electric blue liquid that was bubbling softly in it. "It should take care of the bruises for you."
Ginny accepted the flask, peering distrustfully at its contents before taking a cautious sip. Her lips curled down as the unbelievably bitter taste assaulted her. Ginny liked her coffee without cream or sugar, thank you very much, so she was used to bitter drinks, but this was undrinkable.
"Drink up, Ms Weasley," Pomfrey told her, already turning to Harry's bed and handing him the other flask of healing potion. "The whole lot, that's it."
Trying not to grimace, Ginny took a deep breath and downed the vile liquid in a single quaff, her throat convulsing as the thick liquid wormed its way to her stomach. The aftertaste was, if possible, even worse than when she had tried only a sip.
Ugh, this stuff is revolting.
~No disagreement here~ replied Harry, eyeing his now empty flask with a loathing expression. At least it seemed to be working as Ginny noticed the bruises around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose beginning to fade, ~It's almost as bad as that Skele-Gro poison she once gave me.~
How come the Order didn't heal us on its own?
"Ah, here comes Miss Granger," announced Pomfrey, before taking the flasks again and setting them back on the nightstand. She slipped out from between the two beds and started towards the doors leading out of the infirmary. "I'm going to let Professor Dumbledore know that the two of you are finally awake."
Finally? thought Ginny as Madam Pomfrey hurried out.
~Guess we were out for longer than we thought~ replied Harry, turning to look in the direction Pomfrey had indicated, from where Hermione was approaching.
"Harry, Ginny, thank Merlin you're finally awake!"
*I'm never going to get away from that saying, am I?* sighed Merlin's voice.
Ginny looked at her friend and blinked in surprise. Again someone had declared them finally awake, which implied that they had been out cold for some time. But looking at Hermione, Ginny simply could not believe it. The bushy haired girl's robes, while not exactly covered in dirt and grime, were wrinkled and rumpled as though she had been sleeping in them for the last year or two. Her eyes were ringed with dark blue circles and stark lines of exhaustion surrounded her mouth and hollow cheeks.
But most prominent of all was the sling encasing her right arm.
"Hermione," she breathed in shock, not to mention a little horror, "are you okay?"
Hermione's mouth, curved in a small and relieved smile, set into a grim line. As she came to stand at the foot of their two beds, she shook her head, causing her hair to whip about her face, revealing it to be tangled and matted together from lack of grooming. Her voice, when she spoke, had dropped several registers and matched her sombre appearance. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
Ginny glanced across at Harry, noting that he too seemed a bit sceptical about their friend's condition. For the moment though they said nothing about it.
"What day is it?" asked Harry, sitting up, "What d'you mean 'finally awake'? How long have we been in here?"
"Three days," replied Hermione, looking down at her feet.
Ginny almost exploded in indignation, "THREE DAYS?!?! What the frigging crap is your arm still doing in a sling then?! Pomfrey should've bloody well fixed it up almost immediately after you were hurt!"
"Don't blame Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said in a quiet voice, effectively cutting off Ginny's planned indignant and scathing outburst condemning Madam Pomfrey's medical skills. Ginny was startled to see Hermione's eyes beginning to glisten with tears and her bottom lip was trembling with emotion, "There's nothing more she, or anyone else can do."
What? Harry, what's she talking about?
~I don't know~ replied Harry, a look of concern on his face, ~but I'm going to find out.~
"Hermione," he said, leaning as far forward as he could and reaching out to grab hold of Hermione's left hand, which was hanging limply at her side. He tugged on her arm and drew the teary-eyed girl into the space between Ginny and his beds. Keeping a gentle, but resolved hold on her, he asked, "What happened?"
Much to Ginny's surprise, Hermione burst into tears, which were quickly streaming down her cheeks like a torrent of sparkling diamonds. Harry, being the kind and compassionate man she knew him to be, took Hermione in both his arms and pulled her into an embrace.
What happened down there?
~Nothing good, I'm afraid.~
Hermione cried softly in Harry's arms for several minutes, pressing her face against his shoulder as her body was wracked by deep sobs. Finally she began to calm down, her tears spent, as Harry soothingly rubbed his hands up and down her back. Taking a deep breath she pulled away from him and sat on the edge of his bed, allowing her composure to return.
"Sorry," she whispered as she wiped at her eyes.
"S'okay, Hermione," assured Harry quietly, one of his hands still at her waist.
"Hermione, what's going on?" asked Ginny. "What happened after the explosion? What's wrong with your arm?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip so hard Ginny was almost afraid she would draw blood. Her shining cinnamon eyes took on a haunted aspect as she dropped her chin. "The ceiling collapsed on us," she began. "Almost everybody was buried under the rubble, even those that weren't on the stage with you two and Malfoy. It took Dumbledore and the staff nearly three hours to dig their way into the room and almost the rest of the night freeing us."
Ginny felt a sharp pang, a leaden feeling, form in the pit of her stomach and saw that Harry was closing his eyes. His expression was a sad one, almost anguished, as though he were bracing himself for the worst. Taking a deep and shuddering breath he asked, "How bad was it?"
"Very bad," answered Hermione, looking up at him and sliding her left arm around him so that they were supporting each other. She licked her lips and began to give the details that Ginny feared to hear. "Three of us were killed outright, during the cave in. James Mortimer, one of the fourth-year Ravenclaws. Alice Fletcher and Elizabeth Halpern, both from Hufflepuff."
"No one in Gryffindor?" asked Ginny, more than a little guilty of the relief she felt in hearing that none of her other friends or housemates had been killed.
Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly shut and pressed closer to Harry. After nearly a minute of tense silence she told them, "Lucy Ferrier."
Ginny could almost feel her blood freeze as it flowed through her veins. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Tears of her own began to fill her eyes and she desperately tried to blink them away, but all too soon she could feel them gliding down her cheeks and taste the bitter salt on her lips.
Through the watery haze of her tears Ginny could see that Harry had reached up a hand and covered his eyes, his lips draw in a tight and distressed line. With a tired sigh he lowered his hand and looked into her eyes, his own bright with grief.
"Her injuries were too severe," elaborated Hermione in a flat and monotone voice. "She died while they were moving her up to the Hospital Wing. Two Slytherins, Graham Pritchard and Rosmarie Cartwright, were also injured too badly to save. Graham passed away around noon and Rosmarie sometime during the night."
~Malfoy will pay for this~ Ginny heard Harry think, feeling how his emotions were beginning to seethe and churn with anger. His expression had changed from one of grief-stricken angst to that of dogged resolution. ~I swear I will rip his black heart out of his chest with my bare hands for this.~
Ginny had seen Harry at his best and his worst. She could rightfully say, having literally been inside his mind, that she knew him better than anyone else. She knew that he had great reserves of emotion within him, more often than not repressed behind his normally calm and collected exterior. She had even got into a fistfight with his animalistic side, so to speak, an experience she would not soon forget.
In spite of all this, Ginny had never seen him looking half as dangerous as he did now. She had seen him consumed with an almost blinding fury, after the attack on Hogsmeade the previous Christmas. She knew how deep his feelings ran and had thought that display of raw fury had been the most out of control and most dangerous she would ever see him.
She was partially right.
It was the most out of control she had ever seen him.
It was not, however, the most dangerous.
She could feel it, almost a part of her, but still separate. Not a blistering rage, but a cold, focused determination. About as dangerous as you could get. And, truth be told, even though she did not want to admit it, it managed to frighten Ginny a little bit.
"And your arm?" she asked, trying to divert both their and her own attention away from the loss they were all feeling.
"A large chunk of the ceiling fell on top of me," answered Hermione, slipping her left arm from Harry's waist and stroking her immobile right arm. "My shoulder was crushed. If it had been a Muggle doctor, instead of a medi-witch, they would have had to amputate it, it was so bad."
Hermione looked up from caressing her injured arm and gave Ginny a wan smile. "The Ministry brought in dozens of medi-witches and wizards from St. Mungo's to help with all the wounded. They were able to fix the bones and the muscles and ligaments and tendons, but..."
Harry picked up where she had trailed off, obviously understanding what she was implying while Ginny did not. He tenderly lifted his arm from around her waist and gripped her left shoulder, "The nerves?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded and a few more tears silently spilled from her eyes, "the damage is too extensive even for magic to properly heal. Doctor Watson, one of the neurological specialists at St. Mungo's, says I'll only have about thirty to fifty percent mobility once they take the sling off, they're not sure yet. I can still use the hand, but I'm rather... clumsy now."
"Oh, Hermione," breathed Ginny, feeling a second wave of tears brimming as she pushed out of her bed and crossed the short span separating them. She sat down on the other side of Hermione from Harry and pulled her friend into a tight hug. Both of them sat there, holding each other in their arms and crying softly, while Harry despairingly tried to comfort both of them.
Several minutes passed as Ginny did her best to try and comfort Hermione, rocking back and forth and occasionally imitating her mother, Molly, and crooning. Harry eventually, looking far more collected than either of the girls, detached them from each other. Ginny saw him glancing around, and knew he was using his abilities to scan the infirmary's magic, obviously looking for someone. He twisted to face Hermione and asked, "Where's Ron? Why isn't he with you? After all he is your boyfriend."
"I - I was... visiting him… when I heard Madam Pomfrey saying you were awake," admitted Hermione, not responding as Ginny had thought she would. She had expected that mention of her brother's name would at least bring a smile to Hermione's disheartened face. Then her words registered on Ginny's thoughts and she felt her blood run cold yet again this day.
Oh no, she thought desperately, dreading the idea, please no.
Harry, obviously picking up Hermione's meaning, looked at her. Shakily he asked, "What happened to Ron? Is he..."
"He's alive," Hermione allayed their fears. She sighed, an exhausted and despondent-sounding sigh, and sank her head into the palm of her free hand. "Unfortunately he was badly injured. The same piece of debris that fell on me... it hit him as well."
"How..." Ginny's throat constricted and she had to swallow before asking, "How bad is it?"
Hermione looked up and stared into Ginny's eyes. "Bad. The brunt of the blow was to his head and neck... he's in a coma. Madam Pomfrey doesn't know when he'll wake up."
Hearing this was terrible enough for Ginny. Her heart had skipped a beat and it felt as if the floor had suddenly dropped out from under her. Ginny had, over the years, tried to imagine losing one or more of her brothers. It was an image that she simply found herself unable to form; they were such a part of her life, her very being, that she could not conceive not having them around her. Hermione's next words, filled with anguish, managed to crack the last of Ginny's self-control and bring a fresh wave of tears.
"If he ever does."
***
It had taken Harry quite a few minutes to calm Ginny down, practically having to force her back into her bed. She had protested quite loudly through her tears, determined to go and see Ron, who, Hermione informed them, was residing in a small private room near Madam Pomfrey's office at the other end of the infirmary.
Fortunately Hermione was able to help him, regaining her normal calm. Between the two of them they were able to bring an end Ginny's masterful caricature of her mother having an anxiety attack. She also set to rest Harry's greatest concern; that Ron had suffered brain damage from his injury. There were thankfully no obvious indications of any swelling or bruising that might lead to that terrifying possibility.
The three of them had sat there for several minutes, talking quietly when Dumbledore finally arrived to greet them. Harry was not excessively surprised to see Professors McGonagall and Snape, as well as Arthur and Molly Weasley accompanying the headmaster. He was, however, surprised by the presence of Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins; Fred and George.
They all came, he thought, for a moment feeling a pang of regret that he did not have his own parents and family to do the same. Though the Weasleys had all but adopted him, especially over the last summer, Harry still yearned for his lost family and whatever future they might have had together.
Molly was beside herself and immediately ran across the infirmary to pull Ginny into one of her bone-crushing embraces. Within moments both women were sniffling quietly and Harry was slightly worried that he would be having a repeat of Ginny and Hermione's earlier display. He did not begrudge either of them the need to find comfort in each other, but he doubted that he would be able to endure another such bout of emotion without breaking into tears himself.
"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Arthur, standing just behind his wife and turning to Harry while she and his daughter were otherwise engaged. The head of the Weasley family, though Molly might contest the title, seemed to be almost as drawn and worn from exhaustion as Hermione, his face looking many years old than when Harry had last seen him less than a week ago.
"No," replied Harry honestly. He looked to where Hermione was quietly greeting the twins, both displaying the gentle and compassionate side that they usually kept hidden from view, and then turned back at Arthur. "After hearing about the aftermath... I'm anything but all right."
Molly had drawn away from Ginny, pulling a large and frilly handkerchief from her robes to blow her nose. She turned to Harry and, unsurprisingly, swept him into a hug that rivalled the one she had given Ginny. She was clinging to him in a way that reminded Harry of how she had thanked him for rescuing Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets so many years before.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Harry," she whispered in his ear before releasing him, "nobody blames you for what happened. Hermione, and the other students, told us what you did."
"I should have done more," insisted Harry, unwilling to meet her gaze. Self-recrimination was something that came easily to Harry, especially after Cedric’s death during the third task.
Dumbledore stepped forward, resting his hands on Molly and Arthur's shoulders and guiding them back to give Harry and Ginny some breathing room. "It is my experience, Harry, that a hero's greatest critic is often himself."
Ignoring Snape’s soft, yet derisive snort, Harry lifted his head and looked intently into Dumbledore's blue eyes. He shook his head and persisted, "I'm not a hero. A hero would've got everyone out safely. A hero wouldn't have let anyone die."
"Bullshit!"
"Watch your language, William Weasley," berated Molly, turning on her eldest son with a fierce glare that Bill had no option but to quail under. He might well have been the coolest of the Weasley brothers, what with his long hair, earring and stylish clothing, but Bill was still wisely deferential to his mother.
~They're right you know~ came a thought from Ginny, causing Harry to glance over at her. She was currently in the arms of Fred and George, whose playful and teasing spirit seemed somewhat dimmer than usual. It was as if they had shed their joking nature like old robes they no longer had a use for. Ginny pressed on by telling him, ~If anybody is to blame, Harry, it's Malfoy. Him and everyone that helped Tom do this to him.~
You're right, I suppose, Harry agreed, sighing, but I still feel guilty about it, y'know? That I could have done more than I did.
"We have many things to discuss," announced Dumbledore, looking around at the assembled witches and wizards surrounding the two hospital beds. Molly ceased her scolding of Bill, who was looking very contrite, to centre her attention on the headmaster. "Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, Gregory and Hilary Proteus, are currently making a sweep of Hogwarts grounds, so we need not fear being interrupted or overheard."
"Are you sure about them, Albus?" Harry found himself asking, voicing his concerns. "I mean, aside from Professor Lupin, we haven't had much luck with our Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. The two of them seem a bit... out of place."
"I have known both Gregory and Hilary since they were children," replied Dumbledore. "I have no question of where their loyalties lie. Both of them are beyond reproach in any fashion and may well be our greatest asset during this school year."
The venerable wizard's eyes sparkled with a mysterious mischief. "Besides which, they were recommended for the post by someone I have the utmost faith in. Suffice to say I would trust Gregory and Hilary with my life," concluded Dumbledore, pulling up a chair and seating himself. "Now perhaps you would be so kind as explain to the rest of us here just it was that transpired in the Practical Fighting Techniques auditorium last week."
D'you want to explain this? asked Harry silently, or should I?
~You're the one with all the lecturing experience,~ decided Ginny, settling back into her bed and its copious number of pillows.
"The Order of the Phoenix has existed for untold ages," Harry began to explain, sitting up straighter in his bed. He glanced at Ginny and took hold of her hand. "We, the custodians of its power, have encountered the Well of Shadows in many of those ages. Each time the Well has been created the consequences have been most dire."
It was Snape, standing off to one side, who asked, "What, pray tell, is this - this Well of Shadows you're talking about?"
Harry looked at Snape and replied, "Draco Malfoy is now the Well of Shadows."
TBC...