Dragon's Fire

I walked to the Great Hall entrance, quietly humming. A loud crash pulled me out of my comfy world and back into reality. I ran down to see what it was, just as my Mark burned. I gasped at the sudden pain and cradled my arm closer to me, careful not to bump it. I kept running till I heard screams. Oh my God. Death Eaters had invaded Hogwarts. I kept moving toward the screams of terror, wishing there was some other way. I heard the cries of younger children and teachers alike. There was laughter, cruel and menacing, on the air. It filled the atmosphere with tension so thick that I was swimming in it. I got to the entrance doors and saw one of the most shocking things of my life: Death Eaters were putting the first years under the Imperius Curse and having them kill older students and teachers. I took off, shouting protection charms and stunning/disarming spells as I ran. I stunned two Death Eaters, disarmed six, and was nearly stunned five times myself. More teachers came and the first- and second years ran off, getting hit with curses or spells on their way. I did my best to shield those I considered helpless and heal/aid those not gravely injured. I saw Luna and Neville bravely kicking ass. I nodded to them and stunned a few more Death Eaters that stood in my way. I knew Crabbe and Goyle were blindly following orders and they would not be opposed to murder. Blaise was not a Death Eater and so would help protect the younger kids, while the rest of the 6^th and 7^th years who also were on the light side fought back the evil alongside the teachers. I never saw Potter "the Hero". I looked for his scarred head, waiting for him to kill good ol' Voldie, but he'd never showed.

But then, out of nowhere, it was over. Voldemort let out a high-pitched shriek and a jet of light burst from him. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. A look of shock crossed his face and he fell forward. Potter had been under an invisibility cloak. He'd shot Voldemort with a spell and killed him, looking straight into his eyes. Potter walked toward Voldemort's body to make sure he was dead, presumably. Voldemort didn't shake awake, for one last thrill. Oh no, the bastard was down for the count. Strangely, no one cheered. It was clear that shock and death were still too close to the surface. Everyone was too numb from loss and the sheer amount of evil that had been concentrated into on being. My thoughts ran wild as I realized that, with Voldemort's death, I was free. Freedom was a thing I hadn't experienced since I'd been a child; and I hadn't been a child in many years.

From freedom, my thoughts progressed to Ginny. Instantly, I wondered where she was and if she was alive. Fear clawed at my heart, threatening to rip my soul. I ran toward Gryffindor Tower, knowing that I had to get there. I knew if I got there, Ginny would be okay; alive. I ran like a man possessed. Who knows? Maybe I was. I knew only that if I didn't get to Ginny and see her face with my own two eyes, I would perish. I took the stairs two at a time, racing to Ginny's dorm. I knocked on the door, praying she was on the other side. I willed Ginny to let me in, to show me she was okay. I knocked a second time and a third. With no answer, I turned the knob, which opened under my hand. Ginny was not there, nor had she been. It was then that I remembered Ginny saying something about an army. Dumbledore's Army. She was still fighting Death Eaters. I ran, still faster than before, all the way back to the Great Hall. I arrived, eyes wildly searching for any glint of red. I was greeted by Ron's shaggy head, but no Ginny. Panic squeezed my heart, becoming a cold fist in my chest. I refused to believe that Ginny was dead, though my mind considered its possibility. I ran blindly, scanning the entire room for red hair.

Then I heard the scream that stopped my heart. Ginny was in trouble! I ran toward that scream, hitting Death Eaters and tripping over bodies. I strained my ears for any whisper of Ginny's voice. I felt the sting of tears and choked them back. I was just in time to see Ginny blasted off the teachers' table and fall in to the first table below. Her attacker jumped down to finish her and the table caved in, under the excess weight and tension of two bodies. My vision tunneled to a small ring around Ginny's attacker. I charged him, knocking him backward onto the floor. I hit him with a swift fist to the jaw. I pulled out my wand and pointed it at his throat. I repeated a spell I'd heard Voldemort use countless times to knock people out.

I moved to Ginny's side, taking in the damage. I saw lots of splintered wood and Ginny's clothes were a mess all around her, blocking most of her body. I saw a broken wrist and her ankle was bent in a way that definitely was not within the normal spectrum of mobility. My gut tied in knots at the cuts on her face. I didn't know much about matters of health, but I did know that cuts on the head bleed much more than normal wounds anywhere else. I prayed that the cuts were shallow. I prayed that nothing else was wrong. Ever since I'd met Ginny, I'd done more prating than I ever had before. I'd never found much use for faith before, and as such, I hoped it didn't diminish God's favor toward me. I'd always thought that faith in someone that wasn't physically around didn't do any good.

Returning my attention to Ginny, I levitated her out of the Great Hall toward the Hospital Wing. Once into the hallway, however I simply ended the spell and carried her. Levitating her was impeding our progress toward help. The hallways were more confined than the Great Hall, so it was smarter to carry her. I walked for what seemed like days, though it was scarcely minutes. I wanted so badly for it to be like the fairy tales that Muggles told their children: I wanted to kiss her and make everything okay. Ginny didn't stir, not once, the entire way up to the Hospital Wing. I knew this to be a bad sign, but as much as I'd have liked to wake Ginny, I didn't dare. I had no idea how badly she was hurt and I wasn't about to risk further injury just to make myself feel better. I got to the door, where I'd been countless times to heal myself. Not wanting to put Ginny down, I kicked open the door. The room was dark, like a tomb. I searched for a place to put Ginny down, when my foot brushed something that should not have been there. I carefully got to my knees and set Ginny down beside me. I felt in front of me for what I had nearly tripped on. Dear God, it was a leg! Someone was lying on the floor, possibly dying. I stood slowly and began searching for a light. I grabbed my wand and muttered lumos to better my search. I found a switch and flicked it, flooding the room with light. I looked down the see the person over whom I'd nearly tripped and was stunned. Poppy Pomfrey lay on the floor, fear etched on her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was open, a soundless scream. She'd been petrified, though much was obvious, even to my untrained eye. I levitated her toward a bed. I picked up Ginny and laid her on the bed next to Pomfrey. I made Ginny comfortable and went to search Pomfrey's enormous library for a way to heal Ginny. I know how to mend wrists and ribs, but I had no idea how to fix and ankle. I rummaged through every book I could find on mending and resetting bones, but there was nothing on ankles. Apparently, breaking one's ankle simply wasn't done when these books were written (about three or four hundred years ago). I wandered through the rest of the books, finaly giving up when the only mention of ankles was their position during sex. So, I surmised that I'd just have to go with how her ankle felt. The Muggle Studies class kept a skeleton in the classroom for observation of how Muggles repaired bones. I'd just summon it and use it to mend Ginny's ankle. I'd feel how the bones connected on the mannequin and apply it to Ginny's anatomy. Sounded simple enough. I was scared shitless.

"Accio skeleton!" I yelled, probably loud enough to wake the dead. Minutes later, the skeleton zoomed into the Hospital Wing, skidding to a halt. I wasted no time memorizing the feel of how the ankle connected to the foot and the tibia and fibula. I set to wok examining Ginny's ankle. I compared it with her left and it was swollen to about three times that of the left one's size. After comparing the swollen one with the skeleton, I knew that all I had to do was pop the ankle back into place, wrap it and put ice on it. Yeah, sure; I could do that. Just in case, I put a strap in Ginny's mouth. The pain was highly likely to wake her. I hated the idea of hurting her, but on a practical level, I knew this had to be done. I put my hand on her foot, the other at her calf, and leaned down to kiss her foot.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I moved swiftly. I felt her jump. Just as I snapped her ankle back in place, she awoke, with the loudest scream I had ever heard. I felt her foot, just to double-check my handiwork. When I felt every bone was in place, I tore of one of my shirtsleeves and wrapped her ankle tightly, but gently. Tears streaked down her face, mingling with the blood. I still thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I wanted to smack her senseless for having put herself in danger, yet I also wanted to kiss her until I felt nothing (which would never happen). In a strange way, I was proud of her. Love overcame anger almost instantly. I couldn't bring myself to stay mad, not at Ginny; not at the love of my life. I got into bed beside her and pulled her to my chest. I cradled her head and let her tears mix with blood onto my already-ruined shirt. I held her until her tears became hiccups, which faded into sleep. I comforted her through her nightmares and rocked her to sleep. I healed the cuts on Ginny's face and settled in bed beside her once more. Sleep did not come to me that night. Only nightmares.