Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

83. through the fire.

"I'm not going ... I don't need the hospital wing ... I don't want ..."

He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring.

"I'm – I'm fine, sir," Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. "Really ... I just fell asleep ... had a nightmare ..."

"Pressure of examinations!" said the old wizard sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. "It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?"

"Yes," said Harry wildly. "I mean ... no ... I've done – done as much as I can, I think ..."

"Very well, very well," said the old wizard gently. "I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down."

"I'll do that," said Harry, nodding vigorously. "Thank you very much."

The second that the old man's heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey – who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montague's open mouth – to shriek in alarm.

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"I need to see Professor McGonagall," gasped Harry, the breath tearing his lungs. "Now ... it's urgent!"

"She's not here, Potter," said Madam Pomfrey sadly. "She was transferred to St Mungo's this morning. Four Stunning Spells straight to the chest at her age? It's a wonder they didn't kill her."

"She's ... gone?" said Harry, shocked.

The bell rang just outside the dormitory and he heard the usual distant rumbling of students starting to flood out into the corridors above and below him. He remained quite still, looking at Madam Pomfrey. Terror was rising inside him.

There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had gone, but he had always expected Professor McGonagall to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present ...

"I don't wonder you're shocked, Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, with a kind of fierce approval in her face. "As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face-on by daylight! Cowardice, that's what it was ... despicable cowardice... if I wasn't worried what would happen to you students without me, I'd resign in protest."

"Yes," said Harry blankly.

He strode blindly from the hospital wing into the teeming corridor where he stood, buffeted by the crowd, panic expanding inside him like poison gas so that his head swam and he could not think what to do ...

Antheia, Ron, and Hermione, said a voice in his head.

He was running again, pushing students out of the way, oblivious to their angry protests. He sprinted back down two floors and was at the top of the marble staircase when he saw them hurrying towards him.

"Harry!" cried Antheia, her eyes wild. "Are you OK?"

"What happened?" said Hermione, looking very frightened. "Are you ill?"

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly. "Come on, I've got to tell you something."