Dumbledore's Daughter

Chapter 32: Oh Joy, Death (or close to it)

When I wanted the game to be exciting, this is most certainly not what I meant. The wind is howling, blowing the rain sideways, along with the fact that it's almost below freezing. Every time a water droplets touched my skin, it burns from cold. Poor Harry, honestly. He has to fly in this rubbish weather.

Madam Hooch blows the whistle to call for a time-out. Thank god, because it looks like both teams are about to be pitched into the wind. Hermione, Ron and I sprint to the field as the team lands unsteadily. Harry takes off his glasses and attempted to wipe of the raindrops, but his attempts are futile, as they're replaced with more almost immediately after.

"I'll never be able to play with these!" He announces. Hermione rushes foreword and takes them, muttering a spell that I can't hear over the roar of thunder. Wood looks at her curiously, then instructs the team to do the same to their goggles. Whatever spell it was, it helps repel the water from their eyewear.

"Is that allo-" Ron starts, but I cut him off with a rather aggressive kick to the ankle. I don't care if it allowed at this point, I just want to win, and I think the the team and I share that mindset.

"Right!" I announce, clapping my hands together. "Have fun, and don't die." I say, with a pointed glance at Harry.

"What!" He asks indignantly. I shrug, pulling my hood tighter around my head.

"You're really good at almost dying. Don't do that." He nods dutifully, and the three of us head back to the stands.

Once the game begins again, both teams seem to be doing marginally better. That is, until, the air freezes over and the rain begins to turn into small chunks of hail. A feeling settles into the bottom of my stomach. A feeling of dread only identified as-

"Oh no no no no no..." I mutter, knowing they're approaching. Hermione gives me a look, asking with her eyes, and I nod in confirmation. "Harry!"

The Dementors enter the field in a swarm, there are at least 15 of them, at least. Black billowing robes remnant of tears, and cold, skinless hands. The grip of death. Then the screaming starts. The courageous last-stand of that woman in her final moments. My mother.

The world starts to fade, and the ground gets closer, and then everything goes dark.

-

The bright fluorescent lights of the Hospital Wing greet me when I wake. It seems like this is where I always wake these days. Might as well call it my bedroom. Beside a few aches and pains and my pounding headache, everything seems fine. I shift around in the covers until I get the strength to sit up, which truth be told, makes be headache worse, but I'm certainly not lying here all day. I need to find those bloody Dementors and curse them into next Sunday.

After a lot of pounding in my skull and some well used determination, I'm able to stand up, albeit very unsteadily. Harry lays in the bed next to me, looking completely out of it. I can hear a faint scuffling from the corridor outside, and against my better judgement, I open it. Hermione, Ron, and the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team stand in a group outside.

"The hell-?" I start, before cutting myself off when Hermione spins to look at me with pure insanity in her eyes.

"Oh! You're awake?" She whisper-shouts to me.

"I...I think so?" I answer quietly, jokingly scanning my arms and torso. "I seem to be at least." She rolls her eyes and turns away while the twins snicker.

"Why isn't Harry up yet?" Ron asks Hermione, "If she's awake."

"The Dementors affect him worse than they do me, Ronald. You know that." I reply for her. Ron "Ooooh"s is realization. I actually cannot believe one person can lack so many brain cells and yet still be able to survive. Ron Weasley is a medical miracle, or so it seems.

I can hear Madam Pomfrey shuffling around in her office, so I take it as a cue to shush everyone and race back to my bed. Admittedly, I may have done that a biiit too fast, as the room started to spin the moment I sat down. But meh, occupational hazzard.

"Oh you're awake! Thats wonderful, dear." Madam Pomfrey says in a hushed voice. Glancing at Harry momentarily before turning her attention back to me.

"Yoqssu got a minor concussion when you fell, but that should be fine now." She said. "You also managed to crack a rib, heaven knows how, but I mended that easily as well. You should be able to leave by dinnner, I just need to make sure that none of the effects of the concession are lasting. Don't move quickly or suddenly and you'll be fine." Welp, I already did that. Whoopsie.

"Got it." I assured. I didn't got it, but as you can surely tell already, I'm an excellent liar.

"Please make sure Mr. Potter doesn't sit up too quickly once he wakes up." She warned. "His injuries are worse than yours. I doubt that he'll be leaving the Hospital Wing for some time." I was about to remind het about Quidditch, but she promptly walked away before I could valiantly argue in Harry's honour.

"Fine." I huff, flopping back down on my bed dramatically. Madam Pomfrey 'tut tut's in disapprovement as she walks back to her office.

After a ridiculously long time of staring at the ceiling (spoiler alert, it didn't do anything), I could hear Harry begin to stir next to me. Without a millisecond of forethought, I whipped back the curtain separating Harry and I. Of course it was a bad idea, but I practically invented bad ideas. I'd be fine.

"Finally, you're awake!" I whisper yell. Harry almost falls out of bed when he sees me. Its not like he has any reason to be so freaked out - I'd already swapped my hospital gown for everyday clothing, and it's freezing outside. So bikinis for me. Ever.

"Oh, um, yeah." He mumbles, fixing his newly mended glasses on the bridge of his nose. Those poor things have probably been broken about 200 times already. "Yeah, I'm awake. Er, what am I awake from?" He asks groggily. I hold up a finger, tell him to wait a moment, then run back to there door, where- yep. They're still here, waiting for him.

"He's up," I sigh. "Come in." They all shuffle in awkwardly, which is cramped considering that it's the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, plus Ron and Hermione. Harry looks up at them, still slightly dazed.

"I missed something." He mumbles. I snort, he couldn't be more right.

"This might jog your memory," I said. "Wind, rain, cold, bloody Dementors, Harry. How hard did you hit your head?" Hermione adds that Dad stopped the fall before Harry hit the ground, but whoops, looks like I missed that because I was unconscious too.

"Are you okay?" He asks me. I know for a fact that I look rather bewildered.

"You almost died from falling hundreds of feet to the ground off a broomstick because of flying sadness demons, and you're asking if I'm okay??" I demand. He looks surprised and a tad bit hurt, and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. "But thank you for worrying." I acquiesce. One of those awful silences settles over us. You know those ones that make you wanna avada kedavra yourself? Yeah, that one.

"The others will want to see you." I say quickly, breaking the silence. Hermionr nods behind me as I stand. Rushing through the hospital wing quietly enough to not rouse Madam Pomfrey is easier said than done. I swear, that lady has the ears of a damn bat.

Once I finally reach the hall, I see that the others haven't moved, which is suprising considering we've been gone for almost an hour and I can confirm that a select few of these people have the attention span of a goldfish.

"Hey guys," I greet breathlessly. "Come on. Just, don't make an absolutely ruckus please." The twins give a sad nod and lead the rest of them into the hospital wing. I linger behind and Ron gives me a pointed look as he walks away with the group. I wave him off and start walking, albeit extremely slowly.

I don't know why, but Harry being so awkward around me (even more so than usual) is freaking me out. It's annoying and confusing and wow nothing is ever easy is it.

Welcome to Hogwarts, I guess.