The New Scar

Chapter Eight

Two days later, I woke with a sudden and somewhat frightening remembrance. We had a Quidditch match today against Hufflepuff. How could I have forgotten? It had only been the main topic in all discussions the past week.

But, my body just simply refused to get out of bed that morning, so I rolled over and dozed off, half-asleep. I was near that point where I know that I'm not totally asleep, but my thoughts slowly turn into dreams when I heard a booming sound on the door, nearly knocking it down.

"Cassie McGerald! Don't tell me you're still asleep! We've got a match today and breakfast was over twenty minutes ago!" Harry was yelling on the other side of the door.

I said nothing and tried to pretend that I didn't hear him.

He tried again, "Don't make me come in there and dress you! And don't think that I won't!"

I rolled over, swinging my legs over the side of my bed and rubbed my eyes. The banging persisted. Hermione jumped (literally) from her bed, and landed on her back.

I shouted back to him, "Alright Harry! All right! Jeez! " Immediately, the pounding stopped and I heard footsteps quickly retreating down the stairs.

Getting up, I fished around for my Quidditch robes, pulled them on and picked my Nimbus carefully from my trunk. I spun in around in my hands, feeling it's polished black handle, once used, and ready for another go.

Hermione had been dressing as well and walked downstairs with me. As soon as Harry saw me, he leaped out of his armchair. "Finally! For the love of Merlin I never knew that girls took so long to get up in the morning."

I looked at him unbelieving that he could be so insensitive at this moment, right before a Quidditch match. Hermione said, "Don't mind him Cassie. He's always this way before a match." I saw a bowl of porridge on a table and sat down.

"Thanks Harry," said I as I picked up a spoon.

"Not a problem. Just be sure to sprint down to the locker rooms as soon as you're done." And, with that, he left.

<*>

With a great rush of adrenaline I sprinted, as instructed by the Gryffindor seeker, down and out to the locker rooms. Bursting through the door, I sat down on a bench next to Angelina Johnson. She smiled at me and turned her attention back to the Weasley Twins. They were pacing back and forth, both in opposite directions, overlapping each other as they walked. Every team member was looking at them in anticipation. The look on the captain's faces was that of deep pondering and worries.

Simultaneously, they stopped, facing the Gryffindor players. Both of them looked at each of us, still contemplating. George spoke first.

"This is it."

"The big one," Fred said.

"The one we've been waiting for."

"This is the best team Gryffindor has had in years," Fred's eyes lingered on all of us for an equal amount of time.

"We're going to win," George's face hadn't changed.

There was a long pause, then both of them spoke, "We know it."

The whole team burst out into roars of laughter, and the twins couldn't do anything to keep their faces from twisting into huge grins of laughter. I, of course, was oblivious to what was going on, or what the heck was so darn funny. But, trying not to be the bearer of heaviness, I laughed as well.

Still laughing, we all picked up our broomsticks and walked out onto the field.

Before I had gotten to the locker rooms, the sky had been that of early morning darkness. But as the team got outside, the brightness made me squint my eyes. In the stands were hordes of students, either screaming for us or booing at Hufflepuff or vice-versa. The air smelled wonderful and the sky was clear.

"As Wood would say, 'Perfect Quidditch conditions,'" I heard Katie Bell say behind me.

I glanced back at her. "So, how good is Hufflepuff exactly?"

Before she could respond, Madame Hooch called me to the goalposts. Mounting my broom, Katie gave me a reassuring grin as I flew off to the end of the field.

The rush and excitement of the game was flowing through my veins. I stroked my broom handle as if it were a tense puppy. "Alright baby. It's you, me, and whoever feels like they want to attempt to get a Quaffle past me."

I heard the whistle go off and I saw 10 figures fly straight up into the air. I was ready...

In the past 6 minutes, I had done nothing but watch from a slightly uncomfortable position straddling my broom with no necessary movement. But, I did feel sort of sorry for the Hufflepuff keeper. He looked like he was working overtime down at the opposite end of the field. I had enough time to look around for Harry. He looked like he was having just as much fun as I was, but I knew that he was carefully scanning the field for the little golden Snitch. From where I was, I couldn't help noticing Harry as more than a seeker and a friend. He wasn't so bad looking. Now I knew why some of the more boy-crazy girls talked about him as though he were some sort of a god. His green eyes were so intent on looking for his main object, and his hair was ruffling slightly from the wind. He looked my way, and noticed me looking at him. He nodded; his brown knitted, and resumed scanning the field.

Looking onto the ground I saw shadows flying back and forth on Hufflepuff's side of the pitch. Stretching my eyesight farther from the field, I saw what looked like a Grim, but from Harry's stories, I figured that it was Sirius.

Eventually, my attention turned back to the game. It was slowly rolling my way. Every time Hufflepuff got possession, Gryffindor just took it back. I straightened up and gripped my broom tightly, ready to move.

Just then, I heard the whistle blow loudly and shrilly. The commentator yelled, "Potter has caught the Snitch! One hundred fifty points to Gryffindor! That leaves Gryffindor with 200 and Hufflepuff with 0!"

I felt myself dip my broom down to touch the ground as a reflex. I was happy that we had won our first match but I hadn't done diddlysquat! How can I be happy about something that I did...when I didn't do anything?

After we shook hands with a red-faced with embarrassment, and very pissed-looking Hufflepuff, we walked back to the locker rooms. As the excited chatter about what had just happened buzzed around me, I dressed without a sound.

<*>

Back in the common room, there was just as much commotion. But as soon as a student came up to congratulate me, they hesitated, not sure what to say. I just smiled and waved them away, saving them the embarrassment.

To get away from all of the hullabaloo, I dragged myself up the dorm. I wasn't exactly exhausted, but I was tired from all of the wasted excitement. I lay down on my bed and stared at the canopy. Just then, I heard a clinking on the window to my left. Raising my head from the pillow, I noticed a white owl outside.

Suddenly, the excitement I had just stored away for when I needed it came leaping back out. Arella was back and she had a parcel tied to her leg.

I leaped from the bed and flung open the window letting her in. She flopped on the bed, clearly tired, but proud of herself. I untied her burden and stroked her several times as I poured water into a glass with one hand. She hopped onto my bedside table, enjoying her drink. There was a note attached to the small box:

Dearest Cassie,

John and I are so glad to hear from you. I did find the blood with no difficulty, though I can't possibly understand why you'd want it. And the sleeping draft is there too. Having those nightmares again? All you need is relaxation. Try taking a break from over-achieving and skip some Quippich practices every now and then ok?

Love,

Ann

I chuckled at the "Quippich" remark. They never really did understand how much it meant to me. And "over-achieving?" Since when is taking a few extra classes and tailing the smartest girl in the class in grades over-achieving?

<*>

So, there we were, all sitting together in an unused girls bathroom with a small cauldron bubbling. Hermione had added the 12 pairs of doxy wings (caught in about 10 minutes since the doxies were swarming outside the forest because of all of the excitement from the match.) while the guys and I watched.

She set a ladle into the mixture, pointed her wand at it and uttered a spell. Instantly, the ladle began to stir the contents of the cauldron on its own. "Now," she said, "who thinks that we can get into Snape's stash in the next 3 days?" None of us responded.

"Okay," I said. I paused for a second while they shifted to look at me. "I've got a plan. Now, since Snape seems to like to either pick at a Gryffindor or tell me how smart I am, we'll need one of those little distractions. I'll do that while one of you three go into his back room and grab the Kelpie hooves and the Puffskein tongue."

Harry nodded dutifully and Ron just stared at the floor. Hermione immediately volunteered for the job. "Not much is against me at the moment. He won't see me slip into the back."

"You sure about that 'Mione?" I asked.

"Positive. I've done it before." She looked confident enough and I let her off with it.

Ron spoke up, "Ya know you guys, this is really a wonderful thing that you're doing for me. If this works, I don't know how I'll begin to thank you.

"Ron," Harry said, "Just seeing you live and be yourself again is thanks enough."

They both smiled and embraced each other. Then, Ron broke down against Harry. They hugged each other even tighter. Hermione and I, unsure of what to do, sat in silence listening to the 15 year old boy weep into his best friend's shirt. Pathetic though it seemed, it made me feel horrible.

After a minute or so, Ron let go and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Lovely, I thought.

I wanted to say something comforting, but all that I could say was, "Don't worry Ron. Snape's pretty smart. But when it comes to a student who is seemingly interested in morose things, he'll let his guard down."

<*>

Ever since the first day of potions, Snape had been getting more and more, so I'd been told, like his old self again. "The Dark Mark must have begun to fade," Hermione commented one day in class.

Snape had been writing ingredients on the board when he turned around and snapped at her, "Miss Granger, care to share your opinion to the rest of the class?" His acidic sneer was horrible to look at.

"No sir," she said meekly.

As if on cue, Justin Finch-Fletchley's cauldron burst into flames. Snape was momentarily distracted from the rest of the class and began to fume about poor Justin's incorrect addition to his concoction. I saw that Hermione had seized her moment and while all the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were looking at the recent out burst, she came bustling out of Snape's office; her bag slightly larger than it was before.

<*>

Two days later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were again congregating in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Hermione and I didn't have any problems with being with Myrtle, but Ron did. Apparently, Myrtle didn't necessarily approve of Ron since their second year when they'd first met. As for Harry, however, she had taken an annoying liking to him. Her moaning always temporarily subsided every time he came close to her stall, and I learned that even ghosts could blush.

I helped Hermione carefully crush the Kelpie hooves and add them to the potion. She brushed her hands off on her skirt and said, "Well, now we just have eighteen hours before we put in the tongue then we can give it to Ron."

I looked down at my watch. It was 7:00 p.m. It was by a great stroke of luck that tomorrow was a Saturday.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ron rub his wound. "Uh...I'm not feeling too well. Would you mind if I went up to bed?"

"Of course not Ron," Harry said. "Go on. We'll see you tomorrow."

Ron smiled gratefully and left the bathroom.

Harry's face twisted into a look of confusion and worry. "Do you think that he'll have eighteen hours?"

"Why don't you go up to bed with him? Just check on him every now and then okay?" I wasn't any more sure than Harry was, but it made us all feel better, I'm sure, to have Ron being looked after.

Harry nodded and left.

Hermione and I sat, either one of us on one side of the cauldron, looking in at its quietly simmering contents. The silence was pressing on my ears when Hermione said, "I should probably go up to the common room as well." She stood up slowly.

"Ok then, I'll see you up there." I didn't look at her as she left, but I heard the door shut.

I sighed loudly and leaned against the wall. I felt so tired. It was an overwhelming feeling that one can't really control. Not believing that I'd be able to make it up to the common room, I curled up on the tile floor of the bathroom, resting my head in the crook of my arm. It was warmer than usual in the bathroom, and the potion's smell added comfort to the atmosphere. There was a very dull throbbing pain in my scar that I ignored. I was just way to sleepy to do anything about it anyway. I don't even remember dozing off...

<*>

"Cassie. Hey! Cassie!"

My back hurt, my arm hurt and my legs hurt. Having someone shake me over and over again what not what I needed at the moment. I moaned in exasperation and pain, keeping my eyes closed, not wanting to wake up.

"Oh knock it off, you're fine." I recognized Harry's deep as well as deeply annoyed voice. He grabbed me by my upper arms and heaved me to my feet. "What's with you? Sleeping in the bathroom?" He stood before me, his green eyes full of irritation, worry, and...was that fear that I saw?

"Harry, really. I just fell asleep. I was tired, we all were. Don't act all motherly alright?" I rubbed my eyes and smoothed out my robes. "What time is it?"

He looked at his watch, "About a quarter past noon. Hermione sent me down here to get some of the potion."

I looked down at the cauldron and shrugged. "We may as well take it all." It was hot to the touch, but my skin grew used to it and it became warm. Harry walked next to me on the way up to the Gryffindor common room, watching the potion out of the corner of his eye, telling me to 'watch it' whenever I stumbled.

"How's Ron doing?" I asked as we turned a corner, with the Fat Lady's portrait up ahead.

Harry hesitated, "He's...tired. That's all he says. He's just very tired."

I wondered if fatigue was a serious symptom, or a warning saying that we had little time left. According to Harry, we had about a half hour until the potion was ready to give to Ron.

Inside the common room, students were going about their lives: homework, games, and talking constantly about normal events.

Enjoy it everyone, I thought miserably. Just wait until you nearly get your friend killed--- I stopped my train of thought as we climbed the stairs to the boy's dorm. "Nearly"? What if Ron died in the next half hour? The "nearly" wouldn't be necessary.

Outside the dorm, Harry said, "Wait here a moment," and went inside. I watched from the hallway.

"Say, Neville, Dean?" Harry asked. "Would you guys mind clearing out of here for a moment? Ron and I have...things to do."

"Yeah," said Dean, making a sideways glance at Ron.

"Sure," said Neville, obviously looking as if he wanted to get as far away from Ron as humanly possible. They both cleared out and headed for the common room.

After they had left, I saw Hermione run awkwardly down the stairs. She was trying to go as fast as she could without falling down the steps, but this looked like an immensely tough task.

"Finally!" she said. "I thought they'd never get out of there." She looked at the cauldron I was cradling in my arms. "Oh good! You brought it. Just set it on Ron's table." And she bustled inside. I checked down the stairway, made sure no one was looking, stepped over the threshold and closed the door.

Inside, I saw Ron sleeping on his bed, but his normally pale skin was turning a horrible shade of red. The color made his hair look bright orange. His brow was furrowed, giving the impression of someone with a horrible migraine. "It'll consume the nearest thing," Snape had said. The potion had finally reached his brain. He was slowly...very slowly bleeding inside of his head. I looked away as I set the cauldron on his bed stand.

Harry sat gently down at the foot of his bed gazing at Ron with disbelieving eyes. Ron erupted in a bout of violent coughs. The three of us froze, not having a clue as to what to do but wait until he stopped. After he had finished, Harry quickly got up and moved to kneel at Ron's head. He touched his hand and lifted it up to show us...blood. Hermione gave a frightful gasp and ran to the other side of the room, her hands covering her eyes.

Was this it? Was Ron really going to die? No. No, things like this don't happen to me. They never happen to me. I'm Cassie McGerald. I don't kill anyone.

"Harry," I whispered.

I looked at him. Tears were streaming down his face as he held Ron's bloody hand. "Harry!" I whispered fiercely.

He looked up at me. "Is it time yet?" I asked.

Checking his watch...he nodded.

<*>

Giving Ron the potion was a nearly impossible task. But we managed to give him as much as we could before he started to convulse again. We stepped away from the bed, all standing in silence, anticipation and fear.

I noticed that I was silently sobbing, without really knowing why. Ron wasn't going to die. It was just silly to think that. No one can die when you give him or her the thing that makes him or her better.

That nasty voice crawled to the front of my head, "But what if it was too late? What if he was already half-dead when he got the potion? What if..."

Ron opened his eyes. The color drained from his face, giving him his normal hue. He lay, stock-still, unmoving. But most remarkable of all, the cut on his forehead had faded, leaving a small scar where it once was. He looked around the room, and sat up looking at each one of us. "Hi guys." Ron smiled.

Hermione couldn't contain herself any longer. She flung herself onto him, sobbing in happiness. Ron was taken by surprise and was knocked back. Harry smiled and laughed in confusion and joy. We were all so happy. After the original trio had exchanged hugs and loving tears, they finally noticed me. Yeah, me. The one who nearly killed a Weasley in the first place. They all stood there, clueless.

"Don't worry about it you guys. Ron," I smiled politely, "glad to have you back."

He walked over to me and put his arms around me, squeezing gently. "No matter what anyone says or hears," he whispered, "it's not your fault."

He let go and wiped a tear away from my cheek. I looked into his eyes for a moment, but then noticed something on his forehead.

"Wait a minute..." I mumbled quietly. Brushing his hair away, I saw it. Shocked, I drew back and covered my mouth with my hands. "Oh...oh Ron, I..."

"What? What is it?" He felt his scar, and he knew. His eyes got wide as his finger traced the shape of a lightning bolt.