Well of Shadows
Battle's Wake
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Twenty Four
~ Battle's Wake ~
Harry struggled with Ginny's limp form for several precarious moments in which it almost seemed as though he was going to drop her. Regardless of how it might seem on the telly or the movies,
supporting a dead weight --not that Harry was suicidal enough to suggest that Ginny weighed more than a feather-- was no easy task, even with magically enhanced strength and reflexes.
Eventually, managing to hook one arm underneath her dangling legs, Harry was able to hoist Ginny up into his arms. He was just securing his footing when Ron, Hermione following close on his heels, came charging out of Hogwarts moments after the protective shields were retracted. The frantic looking red-haired wizard immediately sprinted in Harry's direction, a concerned look written plainly on his pale face.
"Is she okay? Is she all right?" he gasped as he drew near.
"She's okay," Harry assured him. "She's all right."
"Thank God," Ron breathed, relaxing as Hermione joined him.
Harry shifted Ginny into a more secure grip and added, "I need to get her to the Hospital Wing, though."
Ron, naturally, became fretful again. He looked at Harry anxiously and asked, his voice pitched somewhat higher than normal, "What? Why? What's wrong with her? You said she was okay!"
"Don't be an idiot, Ron," scolded Hermione, looking askance at her boyfriend. She shook her head, causing her bushy hair to whip about, and pointed where Ginny was held in Harry's arms, "Ginny may be okay, but you can't honestly expect her to be perfectly peachy! You-Know-Who was torturing her with the Cruciatus Curse for pity's sake!"
"How am I going to explain this to Mum and Dad?" Ron moaned, running his hand over his face as he stared worriedly at his sister.
*Your friend seems over-stressed. He needs a holiday,* observed Iphicles.
He's not the only one, replied Harry, tiredly.
He was just preparing to Apparate both Ginny and himself directly to the infirmary, where he hoped Madam Pomfrey was already preparing to treat the wounded, when Dumbledore came striding across the lawn. The headmaster looked a little bit the worse for wear, his deep purple robes muddied and scuffed in places, but otherwise considerably pleased with the outcome of things.
"Ah, Harry."
"Not now, Albus," Harry cut him off. He motioned as best he could with his hands for everyone to move away. "Step back."
"Harry?" asked Hermione.
"I'm going to Apparate us to the infirmary," he explained, tightening his hold on Ginny. "You can follow on foot."
Ron immediately stepped right up to him and grasped hold of one of Harry's arms, shaking his head and protesting loudly, "No way, mate! That's my sister you're carrying - we're coming with you."
Hermione reached out to try and placate the flustered young wizard. "Ron, I don't think--"
Unfortunately, Harry had been on the verge of Apparating as this entire sequence of events played out. This meant that when he and Ginny Disapparated from the grounds and Apparated into the empty Hospital Wing, Ron and Hermione were unwittingly brought along with them.
Harry struggled to remain on his feet as a wave of dizziness and nausea immediately assailed him as the four teenagers appeared with an echoing crack. Luckily his senses were exceptionally attuned to the sensation of Apparation and he was quickly able to shake off the effects of having transported not just himself but three others as well. Hermione and Ron, he noticed as his head cleared, were not as fortunate.
"Oh... that was a bad idea," groaned Hermione, swaying unsteadily where she was standing, both hands pressed against her temples as if trying to ward off a headache.
"No kidding," Ron immediately agreed, his voice thick and broken. He staggered on tremulous legs to the nearest bed and sat down on it, swallowing repeatedly in an attempt to quell the protests of his doubtless churning stomach. "I haven't felt this woozy since right before my first Quidditch match, last year."
Having regained full use of his faculties, Harry quickly moved to where Ron was sitting and impatiently prodded him out of the way so that he could settle Ginny down on the bed in her brother's place. As he released her from his arms he glanced over his shoulder to where Ron had rejoined Hermione, both leaning against each other for support.
"It's just a side-effect of the Apparation," he told them a bit brusquely. At the moment he was more concerned with treating Ginny than he was with the consequences of their hitchhiking. "The ether around the castle is still a little disturbed after the trap dispersed the Well of Shadows."
Ron groaned and shook his head. This was clearly a bad thing to do as he instantly winced and groaned even louder, "I hope so, 'cause if this was how Apparation normally feels, I wouldn't ever want to learn."
Hermione muttered very quietly, as if afraid that talking too loudly would cause her brain to begin leaking out of her ears, "I expect that Apparating all four of us didn't help much."
"Probably not," agreed Harry, turning his attention back to Ginny.
"Then why didn't you do us one at a time?" asked Ron.
"I was in a hurry and I'm not about to leave her alone."
"No, I mean why didn't you just Apparate Hermione and me to here and then come afterwards?"
Hermione began to explain, as she usually did, before Harry had a chance to form his own reply. This was fine by Harry, as he was busy casting a variety of low-key Healing and Palliative Charms on the unconscious Ginny in the hopes of easing her apparent discomfort. It was a good thing that being bonded to the Order of the Phoenix made such expertise second nature to him, literally instinctual when came to the simpler spells.
"To do that he would've had to use Forced Apparation," Hermione said, as though that fact should have been perfectly obvious.
Ron looked at her in confusion. "But isn't that what he just did? Apparate with extra people?"
"That wasn't Forced Apparation, Ron, that was Extended Apparation," she emphasised the words after briefly rolling her eyes.
"Eh?"
"What Harry did just now was Apparate the four of us to the Hospital Wing by extending his translocation aura to encapsulate our own through tactile contact."
*She certainly knows her stuff, doesn't she?*
*Forget about that and concentrate with the rest of us. Virginia's not out of danger yet.*
This time it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "In English."
Hermione scowled at him and crossed her arms. "He was touching us, which is why we Apparated with him."
Ron looked at her askance. "So why didn't you just say that?"
Hermione stomped a foot and glared at him, "I did!"
"All right, then what's the difference between that and 'Forced Apparation'?" asked Ron in a sudden switch. Whether the abrupt turnaround was because of the changes caused by his time in a coma or that he had realized that his girlfriend was almost at the point of visiting bodily harm upon him was unclear. "Is that when you're not touching the person you're Apparating?"
"Exactly!" Hermione nodded, still a bit worked up.
"And that explosion thing that knocked Pettigrew away from Ginny?" Ron waved his hands vaguely in the air in an attempt to mimic the force which had blown Wormtail a dozen metres into the air. "That was because of... Forced Apparation?"
"Action and reaction," confirmed Harry, who had pulled up a seat and was sitting by Ginny's side as he tried to patiently wait for Madam Pomfrey.
Ron turned to him in confusion. "What?"
Harry was too tired to give a proper explanation, and also knew that Hermione would likely be able to give one herself, so settled for shrugging while he carefully scraped away the mud and other grime coating Ginny's face. "Forced Apparation is very difficult."
"He's not kidding," agreed Hermione. "Only one wizard in fifty can safely perform Extended Apparation and compared to Forced, that's easy."
"So it was you that got Ginny away from Wormtail?" asked Ron.
"The Order," Harry corrected.
*We would have preferred to try something less hazardous, but we were rather short of options and sorely pressed for time,* admitted Merlin quietly as Harry finished casting a Scourging Charm to remove the muck coating Ginny like a second skin.
I know. Don't let it bother you, assuaged Harry. The results were good enough under the circumstances.
The creak of the infirmary doors swinging open alerted the three students to the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, who came bustling into the Hospital Wing at a brisk clip.
"Mr Potter!" the Hogwarts matron exclaimed as she spotted him, now standing at the foot of Ginny's bed and waiting for her. The Healer shook her head as she approached. "I'm not surprised to find you here, though I am surprised that you're not unconscious."
"It's Ginny," explained Harry, motioning at the bed with a jerk of his head.
Pomfrey took one look at Ginny and nodded briskly, shuffling past Ron and Hermione to stand at the bedside, while rolling up the sleeves of her robe. "Ah, yes. I should have expected that."
Harry moved to her side and said quietly, "I've done what I could to stabilize her and make her comfortable."
"And how much do you know about stabilizing someone that's been tortured with Cruciatus?" asked Pomfrey in an imperious, and slightly affronted tone.
"Both too much and too little," he replied curtly.
Pomfrey looked at him for a second before nodding in acquiescence, clearly remembering that Harry had experienced his own fair share --more than his fair share, truth be told-- of time under the influence of the Cruciatus Curse.
"I understand from Severus that you know your potions?" she asked, more a statement than a question, though Harry took it as one and nodded his confirmation. Pomfrey pointed him in the direction of her office. "Then go into my office. You'll find a small flagon of Nerve Induction Stimulant; it's next to the Glans Swelling Reducer. Better bring that as well, now that I think about it. They're on the right side of the second shelf behind my desk."
Harry was halfway to the room before she finished speaking.
***
"How long d'you think it'll be before she wakes up?" Ron asked after several minutes had passed. He and Hermione had been dispatched by Madam Pomfrey to stand well clear from the bed where she and Harry were bustling around the unconscious Ginny.
Hermione shrugged and guessed, "Several hours at least, perhaps even a day or two."
"Sometime tomorrow morning," Harry informed the pair, coming to stand by them. "Madam Pomfrey mixed some Calming Solution in with one of the Muscle Relaxants. It'll keep her under while the potions and the Order do their work."
"So she'll be all right?" asked Ron anxiously, looking over Harry's shoulder at the bed.
"She came dangerously close to having her brain cooked inside her skull, foolish girl," scolded Madam Pomfrey from where she was standing by the bedside. She shook her head in admonishment, as if amazed anyone would put their body through such an ordeal - even involuntarily. "Still, provided she makes an attempt to remain out of harm's way and gets enough rest for the next few days, she'll be as fit as --I hesitate to say it-- a horse again in a matter of days."
"I dare say I shall have to speak with the Ministry and see that Virginia is appropriately registered as an Animagus before Cornelius learns of her talent and has an aneurism."
The three students turned to find Professor Dumbledore coming through the doors leading out of the Hospital Wing. He had somehow managed, since Harry had last seen him outside on the grounds, to contrive to appear perfectly spotless - rather than as dishevelled and mud-covered as almost everyone else was.
It was not his sudden cleanliness which captured Harry's attention, however. It was the limp form of Draco Malfoy, laid out on a floating stretcher which drifted behind Dumbledore as it followed the headmaster into the infirmary. Without any conscious thought on his part, Harry had his wand drawn and aimed at the inert young wizard in a heartbeat, the Order's magical energy gathering around his wand so rapidly and forcibly that the very air crackled and shimmered.
"Try to remain calm, Harry," Dumbledore said, coming right up to him and placing a restraining hand on Harry's, forcing his wand down and away from Draco. "Mr Malfoy is unlikely to pose a threat in his current state."
"All right," Harry reluctantly agreed. He looked down at the once again pale-haired wizard that he had always seemed to be at odds with. Now that he had a good look at him, Harry had to admit that Draco did not appear to be much of a threat anymore. His pale, almost deathly white, features were slack and he was bound to the stretcher by thick fastenings and an array of Restraining Charms that held Dumbledore's magical signature within him. Tucking his wand back into his robes he still warned, "But if he so much as twitches - I'll hex him so hard that if he ever wakes up, his robes will be out of style."
Dumbledore nodded in understanding, manoeuvring the stretcher so that he could deposit Draco on one of the beds towards the back of the infirmary - as far away from Ginny as he could manage. "I will be keeping an eye on him, until Duncan has a chance to spare some of his Aurors to stand guard, so do not worry needlessly over it."
The clamber of boots on stone drew their attention back to the doors, where two of the Aurors assigned to the school were entering. The younger of the two, Tom Stratton, was leaning heavily on the shoulder of Thufir Hawat - a grizzled old wizard and third in charge of the division. The cause of Stratton's discomfort was plainly visible, but this did not stop Madam Pomfrey from asking.
"What happened to him?"
"Arrow to the shoulder," replied Hawat, helping Stratton to the nearest bed, which happened to be the one next to Ginny. He shook his head in disgust and explained unhappily, "Those bloody centaurs may have helped turn the tide, but their archery is deplorably indiscriminate."
"My people's skills with bow and arrow are unparalleled, Auror."
Once again everyone's attention was drawn to the infirmary entrance. Harry had the distracted thought that it was almost like a Muggle tennis match; the grand final at Wimbledon.
Only I bet Wimbledon's never had a centaur on the centre court, he mused, instantly recognizing Firenze, the centaur who had saved Harry's life during the detention he had served in the Forbidden Forest in his first year.
His hooves clip-clopped on the stone floor as Firenze slowly approached, his silvery blonde hair shining under the torchlight. He drew to a halt a pace or two short of where Madam Pomfrey was tending Stratton, his blue eyes focused on the seeping wound, and spoke. "Their fault lies in that they have no great love for men and are thus unconcerned in the event any of you might be caught between them and their intended prey."
"You, on the other hand, consider us brethren no doubt," scoffed Thufir.
"Mars, the bringer of war, burns strongly in the night sky. The indications are that wizardkind has been living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars," replied Firenze, turning away from the Aurors so that he could face Dumbledore. "Now the second war, the greater though shorter-lived of the two, is upon us. A great evil stands on the cusp of domination, prompting me to ally myself with your kind."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement and, upon seeing Harry's frown, explained to the three students, "I was able to persuade the elders of Firenze's herd to leave him be when they attempted to trample him after he had indicated a desire to remain at Hogwarts."
Thufir was immediately suspicious and asked, "And why'd they want to do that, eh?"
"Because I offered to assist Professor Dumbledore in whatever way he might have need of my abilities," answered Firenze, his palomino tail swishing in agitation. "They see this as a betrayal of our kind."
"You mean they attacked you?" asked Hermione, looking at the centaur with wide eyes.
"Indeed, child," confirmed Firenze, swivelling to look at her. He sighed fractionally and shrugged his shoulders in what seemed like resignation. "They have banished me from the herd. I cannot return to the Forest."
"Not that there's much left of it," Ron muttered under his breath.
Firenze turned to Harry and extended a hand in greeting, "Harry Potter."
"Firenze," responded Harry, taking the centaur's hand and shaking firmly. "It's good to see you again."
"And you. It was foretold that we would meet again."
Harry raised his eyebrows and asked, "I was unaware that centaurs could read the heavens in such detail for you to know that."
It seemed for a moment that Firenze was about to smile. Even though he managed to restrain his features, his voice held a tinge of amusement as he replied, "The stars and planets are not our only means of divining what was, what is and what has yet to come, child of the phoenix."
"Why did you help us against Voldemort, your herd I mean, if centaurs prefer to remain out of human affairs?"
"The one you call Gregory Proteus came into the Forest some time ago and spoke at length with the herd elders. I do not know what it is he discussed with them, only that he was able to convince them to side with you in this one battle," explained Firenze, his brow puckered in consideration. He shook his head. "Once they have chased the dark ones and creatures away the herd is planning to abandon the Forest - to seek safe haven in woods less travelled by men and their ilk."
Hermione looked concerned, much as she usually did when talking about house-elves, and asked worriedly, "But what will you do then? If you stay here at Hogwarts, I mean."
"That I do not know," replied Firenze calmly, "save for the knowledge that my services will soon be needed."
"In the meantime I think Firenze, and his remarkable knowledge of the Forest and its environs, will prove a valuable assistant to both Hagrid and Professor Sprout during the course of their lessons for the remainder of the year," supplied Dumbledore, who was now standing at Harry's side. He reached up and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, Harry, if you'd care to join me in my office--"
"Can it wait, Albus?" Harry cut him off. He winced at the shortness of his interruption and tried to explain his reluctance to leave by motioning at the bed. "I'd rather not leave Ginny until she wakes up."
"Perfectly understandable," allowed Dumbledore. He released his hold on Harry's shoulder and stroked his thumb along his moustache. "I should be attempting to contact Molly and Arthur, though Arthur, in all likelihood, already knows about the attack. They too will doubtless wish to be at Virginia's side right now."
Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief and nodded. "As soon as she's awake I'll come and see you."
Dumbledore waved a hand. "No need to hurry, dear boy. What I wish to tell you has waited many years. A few extra days shall not make much of a difference. You can wait until Virginia is mobile and able to join you."
"Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry with a nod to his friends.
"Feel free to bring them as well," Dumbledore replied with a wry smile, "since you shall, as a matter of course, share all that you learn with them."
***
Saying that Lord Voldemort was in a foul mood at the moment was somewhat akin to describing the battle at Hogwarts that afternoon as nothing more than a minor scuffle. Truth be told, the Dark Lord's current mood could only be described as highly incensed.
What was truly frightening, however, was the almost implacable calm which seemed to descend over him during such moments. It would have been much less unnerving had Voldemort been shouting and raging about in a fit of uncontrolled anger. Instead, the greater his displeasure, the greater his fury, the more composed and controlled his demeanour seemed to become.
Right now, he was glacially calm.
"Losing to a mere girl... and a Gryffindor at that. I find it unacceptable," Voldemort hissed in a deceptively mild tone of voice. Glistening red reptilian eyes slid over the kneeling Death Eaters until they came to rest one particular wizard. "Isn't it, Macnair?"
Macnair nodded in shame. "Yes, my lord."
It was brutally fast, though it must have seemed an eternity to Macnair. One instant he was kneeling before Voldemort, the next he was a pyre of flickering flames. Voldemort was not known for swift punishments, normally preferring to draw them out, sometimes for hours on end. It was a measure of his anger that he removed Macnair in such an intense manner. The executioner barely even had the time for one short scream of unimaginable pain before he was consumed from the inside out by the blazing fire Voldemort had ignited within him.
"Allowing a servant of mine that has failed to go unpunished is equally unacceptable," Voldemort commented as Macnair's charred remains slumped to the floor. Crimson eyes swept over the remaining Death Eaters as he asked expectantly, "Isn't it?"
"Yes, my lord!" they chorused, clearly terrified.
"Yes, I thought as much," Voldemort smiled thinly. He turned around, his black robes whipping from the movement. "Severus!"
Snape knelt low enough that his brow touched the floor. "My lord."
Voldemort considered the Potions Master for a moment. "Well?"
"The Weasley girl is currently in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing recovering. Potter is supposedly keeping watch over her," Snape reported crisply.
"Is she expected to live?"
Snape's lips curled into a grimace as he admitted, "Unfortunately."
"What of the Malfoy boy, Draco?" Voldemort asked. "I am given to understand that he somehow survived his encounter with Potter."
"Somehow, yes," confirmed Snape, "though Potter hasn't yet offered any explanation why this is so."
Voldemort mulled over this piece of information for several minutes. Snape remained perfectly still, waiting until the Dark Lord asked, "Is there any chance he might still prove useful to us?"
Snape risked a miniscule shrug. "Impossible to say, my lord, while he's still comatose. He was transferred to St. Mungo's early this evening, under heavy guard."
"Lucius... Macnair... Wormtail... all have failed me this day. I shall be needing servants I know that I can trust with any tasks I set them," Voldemort stated, beginning to prowl along the edge of the circle of Death Eaters while he spoke. After completing one full circuit he came to a halt immediately before Snape and asked, "Is the potion ready?"
"Nearly, my lord," admitted Snape with a crisp nod. "It will have reached the proper maturity by the next full moon."
Voldemort's thin lips curved into a malicious smile.
"Excellent."
***
Harry did not know what had awoken him from his vision, only that is was probably not Voldemort. He sat up in the chair which he had drifted to sleep in earlier, glancing at his wristwatch to check the time. A small pang filled his heart when he looked at the timepiece, painfully aware that it had been a gift from Ginny the previous year. It was just after one in the morning and Harry groaned at the realization that he had at some point drifted to sleep, in spite of his decision to keep watch over Ginny through the night.
It was annoying, particularly as his brief nap --he guessed it had been about half an hour-- had revealed just how tired the previous day's fight had made him. It was not often that the natural Occlumency skills granted to Harry by the Order failed to hold up against the bond he shared with Voldemort. Only extreme exhaustion, or depletion of energy, could cause his mental defences to lower enough for such an intrusion to occur.
An unexpected rustle of clothes from behind him almost made him leap from the chair and whirl around with his wand drawn, but a gentle hand on his shoulder prevented the action. He swivelled his head back and found himself looking up at the serene features of Hilary Proteus. Her husband, Gregory, was standing patiently at her side.
"Professors..." Harry began, moving to get up.
"Shh," Hilary stilled him, her hand still on his shoulder to keep him in place. With a smile she pointed to one side, where Molly and Arthur Weasley were sleeping. Hilary smiled and spoke in a whisper. "We don't want to wake them, do we?"
Considering how worried and upset the two adults had been when Dumbledore had called for them to come to Hogwarts, Harry had to agree. Molly in particular had been very close to hysterical over the fact that her "little baby" had confronted Voldemort and nominally lost the encounter. Harry could only compare it to her reaction after Ginny had disappeared into the Chamber of Secrets in her first year, Harry's second, and he had gone in and brought her out.
Arthur had been considerably calmer than his wife, but was still visibly shaken by the narrowness of Ginny's escape from Voldemort and Pettigrew's clutches. He had been informed of the attack on the school while it was still in progress, one of the Aurors had passed the news on when the alarm sounded, and he had immediately Apparated from the Ministry to The Burrow. Suffice to say their worry had mounted considerably, bordering on panic, when the family clock, charmed to keep watch over the various members, had shown Ginny to be in mortal peril.
Once news came from Dumbledore, through the fireplace, that the battle was over and Ginny was alive and reasonably well, though unconscious from her ordeal, they had quickly rounded up the rest of the family and come straight to Hogwarts. The only Weasley that had not been able to join them was Charlie, who was on a mission for Dumbledore on the continent and thus unreachable. Bill, Percy and the twins, however, had accompanied their parents to the school.
It had taken the combined efforts of Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey as well as Harry to put their minds at rest, but eventually the point was driven home that Ginny was simply recovering from her ordeal - and not on the cusp of death as Molly feared. Once everything had settled down and night had fallen the brothers had been sent on their way, propelled by Molly's strident voice, leaving only Ginny's parents and Harry to watch over her.
"Here," said Gregory, quietly so as not to disturb either of the sleeping parents, presenting with a flourish something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of wine.
"What is it?" Harry asked, somewhat at a loss as he accepted the gift.
Gregory smiled rakishly. "A bottle."
"It's the wine they served at our wedding," elaborated Hilary, rolling her eyes at her husband and lightly elbowing him in the ribs. "Chateau Picard. A little dry, but it has a nice bouquet. We kept a few bottles for special occasions."
"Neither of us are wine drinkers, but it's an excellent vintage," added Gregory.
"Um... thanks," said Harry, somewhat at a loss as for what to say. He turned the bottle over in his hands and examined it. Running his thumb over the label he noticed that the date was illegible, obscured by a streak of some dark oil. He looked up at the watching professors and asked uncertainly, "What, uh, what year is it?"
Both Proteuses smiled mysteriously and Hilary answered, "A noteworthy one."
"So, why are you still here?" asked Gregory, settling down on the empty bed alongside Ginny's. "Why aren't you in bed and catching up on your sleep?"
"I won't leave her," Harry replied stubbornly, repeating what he had told Madam Pomfrey throughout the evening until she had finally relented and granted him permission to stay overnight.
"We could keep watch over her for a while, if you'd like," offered Hilary.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'd prefer to stay," Harry declined graciously.
Gregory smirked faintly and asked teasingly, "Still finding it difficult to trust us, Harry?"
In spite of the teasing tone the professor used Harry still found himself flushing slightly with embarrassment and becoming flustered in his denials. He could not seem to decide whether to nod or shake his head, which did not help. "No, sir - I mean, yes... er... I don't know."
Hilary chuckled softly and noted, "You used to trust us--"
"Within limits," added Gregory.
"--before you overheard our discussion after your match against Ravenclaw."
"You knew I was..." Harry trailed off, mildly horrified to discover that his covert eavesdropping earlier in the year had not been as stealthy as he would have liked.
Hilary smiled sardonically and noted, "You went from trust to suspicion very quickly."
"I had good reason!"
"Mmm-hmm," hummed Gregory, sounding somewhat dubious. "D'you still doubt us?"
"I feel as though I'm becoming as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody!" Harry exclaimed.
Gregory gave a subdued bark of laughter and slapped his thigh as he merrily rejoined, "That's the spirit! Constant vigilance!"
"What's bothering you, Harry?" asked Hilary, after giving her husband a pointed look and motioned for him to keep it down so as not to further disturb Arthur and Molly, who had stirred slightly. Once Gregory had made the appropriate placating motions and silently apologised, she turned but to Harry, who was visibly distracted.
"I was... surprised... when you joined the fight," he admitted, slightly abashed.
Gregory chortled softly. "Shocked would be a better description."
Harry sighed and apologised for having doubted their allegiance. "I'm sorry I was so abrupt with you before."
Hilary smiled benevolently and waved the matter aside. "Perfectly understandable."
"Just don't let it happen again," cautioned Gregory teasingly.
"Somehow I don't think that will be a problem, love," Hilary noted wryly.
"True, I suppose," he agreed after a moment of consideration. He looked at Harry and elaborated, "After all, it's not very likely we'll be seeing you again once this year's finished."
Harry sat up straighter. "You're not coming back?"
"Of course we're not," chuckled Hilary, as though he had suggested something positively ridiculous. She shook her head and wagged a finger at him. "You should know by now, dear, that nobody holds the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for more than one year at a go. Not even us."
"I'm sorry to hear that. You've been very good teachers," Harry told them with honest disappointment.
"You have no idea how true that is," she readily agreed. "Especially considering who you're getting next year."
Harry looked at them both and asked curiously, "You know who?"
Gregory shook his head and laughed under his breath, "No, not even Dumbledore is crazy enough to hire Voldemort."
It was several seconds before either Harry or Hilary caught his play on the words and it was Hilary that responded by jabbing her elbow into her husband's ribs for the umpteenth time that night. She frowned playfully at him, clearly resigned to his quirky sense of humour, and declared placidly, "Idiot."
"Here, this is for you and Ginny," Gregory announced suddenly. He reached into his robes and drew a gilt-edged envelope from the breast pocket of his shirt. He handed it to Harry and said, "Don't open it until you're ready."
"What's inside?" asked Harry, taking the envelope and looking it over. It was sealed by wax stamped with the Gryffindor crest and, as the older wizard had said, both his and Ginny's names were printed on its face in bold and flowing gold letters.
Hilary answered his question first, saying, "The past."
Gregory added, his lips curling in a wry smirk, "The present."
"The future," continued Hilary, a shadow of something Harry could not readily identify passing through her bright hazel eyes.
"And a little bit of everything in between," Gregory concluded, his wry smirk melting into a mischievous grin that Harry was more accustomed to seeing on Fred and George rather than any of his professors.
He looked down at the envelope in his hands and asked, "So... when should I open it?"
Hilary answered, "When the time is right."
"When exactly will that be?" he asked, brow puckering unhappily at the vague reply.
"I'll tell you that the day I change my hair colour," retorted Hilary, patting him on the shoulder as she smiled just as impishly as her husband - perhaps even more so.
"Don't worry about it," assuaged Gregory, rising to his feet. "You'll know when it's time."
Hilary stood up to join Gregory, clearing preparing to take their leave and return to their quarters in the staff wing of the castle. "We'll see you in class, Harry. Try to get some rest in the meanwhile."
Gregory snorted and joked, "Believe me, you'll need it - Ginny's O.W.Ls are coming up soon."
The smack of Hilary's elbow connecting with his ribs, followed by Gregory's mock exclamation of pain, was loud enough to stir Arthur and Molly from their slumber. Harry couldn't help but laugh as his Defence professors almost fell over each other in their attempts of apologise.
***
Consciousness returned to Ginny gradually, creeping up on her so that she was unable to pin down the exact moment that she awoke. Yawning in protest against having to get up she slowly blinked her eyes open, wincing slightly against the brightness of the sunlight streaming in through the infirmary windows opposite where she was lying in bed. Licking her lips and swallowing in an attempt to alleviate the dryness in her mouth, she turned to look to her right, where she could feel a familiar presence.
"Good morning," the only other visible occupant of the Hospital Wing greeted her, leaning forward so that he could reach over and take both of her hands in his own.
"Harry," she both identified and replied.
He smiled with visible relief and asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Sore as the dickens," she replied, shifting uncomfortably about the bed. She shook her head ruefully and observed, "I never knew how many muscles the human body has. Now I can count each and every one of them individually."
"Ouch."
"Yeah," Ginny agreed, struggling into a sitting position. She looked at Harry and smiled sadly back at him and admitted, "I guess you would know better than most people would."
"Unfortunately," he readily agreed. He breathed deeply and exhaled. "That's probably why I was so worried."
Ginny gave his hands a reassuring squeeze and asked, "How bad was it?"
Harry shook his head gravely. "More than I'm comfortable with. If it weren't for the Order's regenerative abilities, you would have suffered a great deal of nerve fibre damage. As it is Madam Pomfrey has decided not to let you out of here for a while."
"How long?"
"A week to ten days she said," Harry told her, his tone a tad scolding as he released Ginny's hands to pull at and straighten her rumpled bed sheets.
This was news that Ginny considered even worse than the dull ache which seemed to encompass her entire body. Staying in the Hospital Wing, under the rather dubious care of Madam Pomfrey, was not very high on her "to do" list. She was just beginning to work herself into a mood of equally mixed outrage and grumpiness when her attention was drawn to Harry. Ginny eyed her boyfriend, immediately noticing the shadows that were starting to form beneath his eyes, as well as the tautness of his mouth.
"You stayed up all night, didn't you?"
"Not all night," he admitted.
"Oh, Harry," breathed Ginny, suddenly distressed at this realization of how concerned for her he had been.
Harry sighed and laced his fingers with Ginny's, gripping her hand tightly, and admitted, "I came disturbingly close to losing you yesterday, Gin. It scared me more than anything else I've ever been through."
Ginny smiled crookedly and squeezed his hand. "Don't fret, Harry. Like you, I have an excellent sense of direction."
~It's not easy~ he said silently, clearly still on edge.
That's our life right now, Harry, she replied, squeezing his hand in comfort once again. She attempted to lighten the mood by grinning mischievously and observing, "Besides, I think you're just like your dad in that regard. You enjoy the adrenalin rush."
"I did not enjoy yesterday," countered Harry unhappily.
"Come to think of it, neither did I," Ginny had to admit. She shifted about in an attempt to find a more comfortable position and asked, "How is everyone?"
"Your parents are here, but Madam Pomfrey ordered them go and have breakfast," he told her with a slightly tired grin. "Your mum put up quite a fight and refused to leave unless I was allowed to stay behind to keep an eye on you."
"The Hospital Wing seems a bit empty. Aside from me that is," she noted, looking around. "I guess that means there weren't too many injuries."
"For the most part," Harry agreed, his voice clearly being kept carefully neutral as was his expression. "None of the students or Professors were hurt."
It was not difficult for Ginny to pick up the omission.
"The Aurors."
"Three fatalities," admitted Harry gravely.
"Oh no," Ginny exhaled, feeling her stomach knot at the news. "Who?"
Harry pursed his lips, trying to be dispassionate about what he was saying, but Ginny could see how his jaw tensed and could hear the slight catch in his voice as he spoke. "Boyle and Pembry. Both by stray Killing Curses. Wyman was hit by something that ruptured most of his organs. He didn't make it through the night."
Ginny grimaced and cursed, "Damn. Anything else?"
"Just the usual bumps, bruises and broken bones you'd expect from a fight like that. I think one of the centaurs might've been hurt, but they didn't come here afterwards and Firenze didn't say anything. None of the merpeople were injured. At least not that I saw - I brought you straight here."
"Malfoy?" she asked, her memories of her own worry over Harry's face-to-face encounter with the Well of Shadows coming vividly back to her.
"No sign of Lucius. Draco literally wiped him from existence," Harry answered with a shrug. He settled back in his chair, a pensive expression on his face. "As for Draco..."
Ginny was mildly surprised and asked, "He's alive?"
Harry flashed her a humourless smile and said, "I would say he'll rue not having died, but pretty soon he won't rue much."
"Because of what happened during the dispersal?" she asked, pausing to surrender to a long and deep yawn which had suddenly crept up on her. Clearly, if the slowness of her thoughts was any indication, she was still a bit out of it. "'Scuse me. There was something odd about it."
"As near as we can tell--"
*It's more of an educated guess really,* put in Osiris.
"--the energies involved--"
*Both by the Well itself and the trap's attempt at dispersal,* elaborated Merlin.
"--have caused irreparable damage to his brain's neural pathways," Harry continued to explain, ignoring the momentary interruptions by the members of the Order. Now that Ginny was finally awake they were returning to their normal talkative selves. "Since the shadows are no longer present built to bolster their functioning, they're beginning to degrade."
"His mind is going to fall apart, isn't it? Slowly unravel until he's reduced to a state of mindlessness. A vegetable in a padded cell," Ginny concluded, collating the information the various Order members were silently passing on to her. She had not had as many encounters with Draco as Harry, but what few experiences she'd had did not endear the Slytherin youth to her. Still, such a fate was not one she would have wished upon him. Even if he had been an arrogant little brat whose selfish ambitions, and those of his father, had caused so much harm to those she cared for. "Poor bastard."
Harry sighed tiredly, slumping a bit in his chair, and elaborated, "Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had a team of Aurors escort him to St. Mungo's. Under heavy sedation the whole time, of course, and enough magical inhibitors and restraints that even the two of us would have a hard time breaking free."
Ginny mulled over that for a moment before asking, "No side of any shadows in him?"
He shook his head. "Aside from the gradual disintegration of his mind there's nothing to show that he was ever the Well of Shadows. All the physical changes made by the Well have been undone. Even the colour of his hair's back to normal."
"What does the Minist--" she began to ask, but broke off as another deep yawn sneaked up on her. She leaned back against her pillows, blinking wearily and apologised, "Sorry again, I'm still tired."
"Lie back then. Conserve your strength," Harry told her, releasing his hold on her hand and reaching over to brush several locks of her hair, which dangled around her face, back into position.
As she settled back, sinking lower into the bed, she asked, "Harry, do you ever see things? Y'know... when you almost die?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. An expression of mixed curiosity and worry flashed over his tired features as he focused on Ginny and asked, "What did you see?"
"I think I saw Elvis."
TBC...