The Last Time

Chapter 6

Detention wasn't so bad. Madam Pomfrey had her clean out the enormous medicine storage cabinets, throw out anything that was expired, and organize the remainder alphabetically. Hermione was relieved. When McGonagall had told her she'd be doing detention in the hospital wing, she was afraid she'd be cleaning out all the bedpans without magic, like Ron had had to do a few years ago. Though cleaning out the medicine cabinets wasn't as disgusting as cleaning the bedpans, it did take a while, and Hermione didn't leave the infirmary until half-past eleven. She headed back to Gryffindor Tower, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"Codswallop," she said absentmindedly to the Fat Lady ("Whatever you say, dear,") and climbed through the portrait-hole into the common room. It was dark; everyone had apparently gone to bed, and though a small fire still burned in the fireplace, it was chilly.

Harry was asleep on the couch by the fire, curled on his side, glasses lying on the nearby table. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the flickering light from the fireplace made his cheekbones stand out when they usually didn't. He looked much older than seventeen, as though he'd aged four years at a time instead of one. Considering all he's been through, it's a wonder he doesn't look worse than this, thought Hermione. She picked up a blanket lying on a nearby chair and covered him with it carefully, not wanting to disturb him, and walked quietly to the dormitory steps.

Halfway up the steps, she heard something awful.

"Mum?" said Harry in a strangled, choking sort of voice.

It chilled Hermione to the bone. She froze, listening, unsure whether to keep walking or to stay where she was.

"Stop it! Leave her alone...get away..."

Hermione walked slowly back to Harry, haunted by what he was saying. He was getting louder...surely, he would wake up any second...

And then he screamed. It was a bloodcurdling, hair-raising scream that terrified Hermione like nothing she'd seen or heard before. He was kicking and thrashing on the couch - she expected him to fall off and bang his head on the floor. She knelt beside him, feeling helpless, not knowing what to do. From the dormitories above, there were shouts and the sounds of slamming doors and running feet. Anxious Gryffindors in pyjamas crowded the balcony and stairwell, chattering.

"What's going on?"

"Who is that?"

"Was that screaming?"

"What happened?"

"It's Harry! What's wrong with him?"

"Get back to your rooms, everyone," said Ron, shoving his way down the stairs. "Now!"

"Ron, something's very wrong," said Hermione. She looked up at the stairs, where people were still standing and gawping. "GO!" she screamed at them.

"Move it," said Seamus Finnegan, as he and Dean Thomas began to herd everyone back towards the dormitories. Ginny looked frightened, but she helped prod the whispering girls back to their rooms.

"Seamus...go get somebody...McGonagall, Dumbledore, somebody!" yelled Ron.

Harry's screams had turned to tears. His eyes were still closed, but he was sobbing in huge, convulsive gasps that shook his body horribly.

"Should we wake him?" she asked Ron, who was trying to keep Harry from falling into the floor.

"How should I know?" he said. "I don't know what the fuck's going on here any more than you do."

"We've got to do something!" Hermione was frantic. "He said he's been having dreams again, about You-Know-Who...it's got to be something to do with that, Ron." She took Harry's hand. "Harry, it's Hermione, and Ron...we're here..."

Harry continued to cry - though 'crying' was not an adequate word to describe what was happening. It was the anguished sound of someone who was experiencing pain far greater than anything imaginable, pain that was clawing at his very soul and threatening to shatter it into a million pieces.

"Harry, wake up, man...come on now..." Ron took Harry's other hand, a look of pure terror on his face.

Hermione fought hard to keep the scream burning in her own throat from escaping. "Oh God, he's not waking up...Ron, I'm scared...what's happening to him?" Instinctively, she reached for Ron with her free hand, and he took it, holding it tightly.

WHAM.

Hermione felt as if she were falling...everything went dark...she couldn't feel the floor underneath her feet or the couch she'd been leaning against - all she could feel were her hands, holding on to Ron and Harry. She couldn't have let go even if she'd wanted to. It was like an electric current was passing through their hands, connecting and binding them together. Every muscle in her body was rigid; every hair standing on end; every pore of her skin was on fire. She tried to scream, but nothing came out.

What are you doing here?

Harry, is that you?

Go away...leave me alone...

No...we won't...tell us what's wrong. We're your friends, Harry, we can help you.

NO, you can't...now GO AWAY.

Stop it now, you stupid prat, we know something's up with you, and you know we won't shut up till you tell us, so out with it.

It's too much.

What's too much?

I'm tired...

Harry? Tired of what? Tell us...

I'm tired of seeing things...hearing my parents...

Your parents? What do you hear?

When they died...when Voldemort killed them, he laughed at them, and they begged him for mercy...he laughed...I don't want to hear it anymore, I want it to STOP...

Harry, we want to help you. Talk to us.

No...go away...I don't want to talk anymore. I'm through.

You're through? You bloody idiot, what the hell are you talking about?

It's green...so green...

Huh? What's green?

The light...it's green...it's cold.

Harry...what light?

Harry?

Harry, where are you?

Harry, answer us, dammit!

HARRY!

Ron, where is he...he's gone, I don't hear him...

For fuck's sake, Harry, say something! Or think something, or whatever the hell we're doing here!

I said, GO AWAY...I'm done, I'm through.

Oh no you're not, Harry James Potter, you're coming back with us.

Don't tell me what to do.

Oh, now you want to be a smartass! Come on Harry, let's get out of here.

Shut up...get out of my head...

Harry, we're not leaving without you. I don't care what you say, or how mean you are, we're not leaving. Now come ON!

No.

Ron, do something!

What d'you want me to do? I don't even know where we ARE!

We're in Harry's head...or something like that...

You are. I don't know how you got here, but get out.

Don't shut us out, Harry...we love you. I love you, Ron loves you...we need you.

That's right. I love you, you stupid git. You hear me? Don't do this.

...

Harry?

You...love...me?

That's what we said, didn't we? Are you thick or what?

Ron! For God's sake, watch your mouth!

I...I love you too...both of you...Ron...Hermione...please...

Please what?

Help me...the light...it's so green...and cold...

Where are you?

I don't know...help me...

Hold on Harry, we'll find you, just keep talking...

Help me...please...

We're coming, Harry...hold on...

Harry?

Where are you, Harry? Talk to us...

Oh, shit...that light...there it is...

Ron, where is he?

Harry! Where the fuck are you?

HARRY!

A great whoosh of wind rushed past Hermione's ears, and she slammed backwards into something cold and solid. She opened her eyes slowly to find herself back in reality, lying beside the fireplace, drenched in a cold sweat. Ron had been thrown into the far corner under the window; he was getting up and shaking his head dazedly. And Harry...he was lying on the couch, still and pale...he looked....

Ron's eyes were full of tears and he bit his lower lip nervously. He helped her to her feet, and they approached Harry cautiously.

Hermione reached out a tentative hand to touch Harry's face, brushing the hair out of his eyes. His skin was cold and clammy, and the scar on his forehead was a vivid, garish red, standing out in sharp contrast to his pale skin.

"Harry?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes. Beside her, Hermione felt Ron let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey," Harry croaked weakly.

"Hey yourself," said Ron.

"Oh God, Harry, what was that?" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head slightly. "I don't know." He closed his eyes again and went limp.

"I think he just passed out," whispered Ron. "He's still breathing."

Hermione and Ron turned around as they heard people climbing through the portrait-hole.

"Good heavens, what's happened here?" exclaimed Professor McGonagall, as she hurried over to them. Behind her was Madam Pomfrey, with Seamus panting and bringing up the rear. He'd apparently run the whole way and back.

"We don't know," said Hermione, looking from Ron to Harry and back to Ron, then burst into tears. "He was...screaming...and then...we couldn't...do anything... he wouldn't...wake...up..."

Ron reached out to her, laying a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. He rubbed her back soothingly as he tried to explain to Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey what happened, but Hermione didn't listen. Her legs were shaking; she didn't know if she could stand up much longer without collapsing. Ron seemed to sense this and he steered her to the closest chair.

"He's fainted," said Madam Pomfrey, after examining Harry closely. "I think he'll be all right, after he rests...I still don't understand what happened. Whatever it was, though, it could have killed him if you two hadn't been here." She turned to McGonagall. "I'm taking him to the hospital wing right now to keep an eye on him."

Madam Pomfrey magicked up a stretcher, and Ron and Seamus helped her get Harry onto it. She looked at Hermione and Ron. "As for you two..."

"Just a minute, Poppy, I need to say something first," said Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Finnegan, do not let anyone leave this tower in the morning until I get here. I will come up before breakfast to address the Gryffindors...they are most certainly curious and there is no point in allowing ridiculous rumours to begin circulating. And not a word of this must leave this tower. No one is allowed to discuss this with anyone outside of Gryffindor House. Is that clear, Mr. Finnegan?"

Seamus nodded. "Yes, Professor."

She turned her attention to Hermione and Ron. "You two, go with Madam Pomfrey, and do exactly as she tells you. I daresay she'll want you to stay there for the rest of the night...you've been through quite a shock, although we don't know exactly what yet. In the morning, after I talk to the other Gryffindors, I'll bring Professor Dumbledore round to speak with you, and Mr. Potter if he's up to it, and see if we can't figure out what happened." Her face softened a bit. "Do try and get some rest. We'll figure it all out in the morning." With that, she crossed the room and climbed back out of the portrait-hole.

"You...you'll be all right?" Seamus asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Thanks...thanks for your help."

"No problem," said Seamus. "Do you need some help, Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Finnegan," said Madam Pomfrey. "Come on now, let's go."

Hermione snatched Harry's glasses off the table where he'd laid them earlier in the evening. "He'll...want these later," she said, following Ron and Madam Pomfrey and the stretcher with Harry out the portrait-hole.

The walk to the hospital wing was a quiet affair. No one spoke. Ron's arm was around Hermione's shoulders the whole time...she appreciated his warm, comforting presence, and she suspected it was for his benefit as well as hers. What just happened had scared the both of them terribly, but she'd seen Ron's face when Madam Pomfrey had said that Harry could have died if they hadn't been there. As awful as the thought of losing Harry was to her, she could only imagine what it would feel like to Ron - especially after the events of the last week.

When they reached the hospital wing, Ron helped Madam Pomfrey put Harry to bed. She then took out a large slab of chocolate, divided it in half, and admonished them to eat it all while she went to fetch a Sleeping Potion.

Hermione took a small bite of her chocolate, forcing herself to swallow it. It stuck in her throat like a lump of half-chewed bread. She had so many questions running through her mind...she couldn't sort them all out.

"Stop thinking," said Ron.

"I can't," she replied.

Ron sat next to her on the bed. "Look, I don't know what the hell happened in there. It's freaking me out too...but if we're going to help Harry, we've got to pull ourselves together."

"Help him? We don't even know what's wrong with him!"

"Between us, and Dumbledore, and McGonagall, we'll figure it out." He tried to smile, not quite succeeding. "Now, eat your chocolate before Madam Pomfrey gets back here and force-feeds it to you." Ron's voice was light, but artificial. Hermione could see behind the wall of bravado he was putting up.

If he can fake being brave, so can I, she thought. If we both fake it, it might work. She slowly forced down the rest of the chocolate.