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Wanda
"And were there witnesses?" Dumbledore asked me.
He still wore his black travelling cloak and stood opposite me, tapping a long finger on the top of his chair; Harry was right, Dumbledore had been travelling.
I bit back the curiosity and "where have you been?" from the tip of my tongue and asked through swollen lips, "For which event?"
The Headmaster surveyed me with an x-ray-like gaze, a gaze that wasn't hostile, and yet, was also not friendly, "Professor McGonagall is speaking to Harry, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger about the other incident." He said, speaking in his usual innocuous tone. "Let us focus on the matter that only concerns you."
Pain spliced across my temples and I grit my teeth. "I don't know." I answered. How was it possible for so much to go wrong in so little time?
I was so exhausted that I could barely manage to stay awake, let alone comprehend the disastrous situation I now found myself in. If people had seen... but I couldn't muster a concentration span long enough to ponder it without a burning pain squeezing behind my eyes.
Dumbledore stood up completely straight, "I shall travel to Hogsmeade and see what damage I can undo, I daresay there may be a few Hogsmeade residents that I can persuade to keep this whole thing under their hats - if - it is not already too late, that is." he added, raising his silvery eyebrows.
A wave of nausea rolled through me.
"Your wand," he continued, "is also missing, I notice."
I nod faintly, I'd almost forgotten.
The old man sighed, his long robes rustling as he rounded his desk and stopped by the side of the armchair I was slumped in. "I will retrieve it for you." he says, softly.
"Thank you," I reply in a muffled voice. A heavy silence follows and my eyelids droop. Inside, my brain is aching, my ears ringing, my ribs throbbing... part of me questions why I'm even still alive. Why we made it back. Why my friends are okay. "I'm sorry."
The words leave my mouth before the guilt can drown them. I hide my face behind my hands, feeling hysteria shake my spine. Tears mingle with blood and I shudder pitifully - they could've been dead today.
"Though I regret the use of your magic," Dumbledore murmurs, placing a hand on my uninjured shoulder. "I do appreciate the severity of the situation and, perhaps, I did quite underestimate the strength of your power. You did well," he says, but it doesn't help. How can it help? They could've just as easily been another Sirius. Another of my long-lost family. My best friends. They could have died too.
"They nearly died." I whispered, spreading salty tears across my cheeks as I swiped a hand over my skin.
"So did you." the Headmaster reminds me, a twinkle in his eyes.
But that didn't seem important to me. I couldn't stop being horror-stricken at what might've happened to Harry, Ron and Hermione.
Maybe he knew it because he smiled and said, "Wanda, what is done is done. You all made it out alive today - yourself in a considerably worse state by comparison. It is normal to feel guilty, but not healthy to carry it on. Those monsters may have been close, but they did not come out on top - you did. You are more capable than you think, Wanda - not every mistake is a bad one."
I wanted to believe him - I begged myself to do so. But the war in my head never seems to be won.
I breathed deeply, trying to suppress more tears; there was something else I wanted to ask. "Professor... were they here for me?"
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Our whispers broke through the hushed darkness of the Hospital Wing later that night. Harry had cast Muffliato at Madame Pomfrey's door, much to Hermione's disapproval, and an argument was well underway. But this argument did not last as long this time as the three of us were currently enduring another 'Draco Malfoy is a death eater talk'.
"It had to have been him!" Harry insisted fiercely, perched on the end of my bed and Ron on the end of Hermione's. He was agitated and the diamond blue of his wandlight lit up his flushed cheeks as he glared at all of us. "He knew it was there and has done for years - who else could it have been?"
"But that's just it, Harry," Hermione interjected quietly, "It could've been anyone."
Exhaustion threatened to pull me under in the silence that followed, the warmth of the Hospital Wing and distant buzzing of Harry's spell tried to slowly lull me to sleep, tugging at my drooping eyelids and coaxing my weary mind as it struggled through a muddle of thoughts. Could it have been Draco? I wanted to shut it down as ridiculous - McGonagall had told the three of them he was in detention today anyway - but I couldn't quite... A sudden cold shiver rippled down my spine and I jolted upright, pulling the duvet of the hospital bed tighter around me and groaning as I attempted to sit up straighter.
My stomach churned uneasily - I hated thinking about him anyway, but after this afternoon I hated it even more.
"Do you want my jumper?" Harry offered, his angry expression dissolving as the trio's heads turned to face me.
"Thanks, but I'm fine-" I began, still shivering and cringing at the pain twinging through my ribs with each tremour. The ice from the creatures' attacks were still cold and still painful and nothing could be done - the broken ribs were here to stay until my magic could heal it, as was the puncture below my collarbone, the scratches on my face and the jaw marks dug into my left calf.
I would be fine, I just couldn't be discharged for a few days.
Despite this, the three of them protested immediately, agreeing on something for the first time in half an hour.
"Wan, you know mum would go nuts if she saw you now," said Ron, eyeing me with a grimace. "I'm surprised she hasn't been up here already - this must be a record."
I rolled my eyes as Hermione piped up, "Ron's right. Madame Pomfrey said you must keep warm or it'll be even longer before you can be discharged. You've been moaning all evening about how much you want to be released!"
"Yes, but-" I tried to argue but they were having none of it.
"Shh," Harry interrupted, shrugging off his quidditch jumper and throwing it at me.
"But that's stupid," I protested, even though the gesture meant that I was fighting a smile. At least I knew that some people cared. "Now you'll be cold."
"I wasn't the one savaged by ice monsters," Harry stated in response.
I glared into the three pairs of eyes staring at me until a particularly violent shiver sent another sharp twinge through my ribcage and I reached defeatedly for the bundle of scarlet and gold. "Mother hens." I muttered, gingerly stretching the jumper over my head and pushing my arms into it.
Hermione giggled.
Harry's soft caramel scent engulfed me and I sighed, snuggling the material closer to me. "Can I ask you guys something?" I asked once I'd gotten my breath back and had sunk back into the pillows.
Harry made a thoughtful noise and Hermione sat up a little, "Of course?"
Ron was waiting with his typical half curious, half scared look and I smiled, touching a hand to my mother's amulet. "I feel like we don't really talk about it, but um, do you ever think about all the nasty things that Malfoy says to us?"
The room went quiet again and I was acutely aware of the direction this conversation might take, but I can't stop replaying what he said to me earlier - or feeling the actual pain that his words had inflicted. So sharp. So cold and nasty. I couldn't be the only one who he actually upsets, right?
"Not really," Harry said after a moment, his lips pursed. "He's a self-righteous prick and anything he has to say is utter bullshit."
My stomach dropped a little. "Well, I know bu-"
"I do sometimes." Hermione said quietly, staring at her hands. "Mudblood. It just rings in my ears whenever I get something wrong - like a reminder that I'm not good enough, that no matter what I do, I'll always be a filthy mudblood."
Ron looked outraged, his face had surged a deep red and his hands were trembling. "Hermione, you are not-"
"I know I'm not," she interrupted, "But I don't forget what I've been called - or how it makes me want to scream and cry and tear all of my hair out. Is there something you wanted to tell us, Wan?"
With each of Hermione's words I'd felt both lighter and suddenly full of lead at the same time. Magic bristled in my veins and I dug my fingers into my duvet to control the anger crackling inside of me like a thunderstorm, "He was just really horrible earlier and I wondered if I was being too sensitive to have been upset by it." I responded, breathing hard.
The throbbing scarlet of my irises had grown bright enough to reflect in Harry's glasses and I fought harder to contain the beast. I wasn't entirely sure what had brought on this sudden rage of chaos, was it anger? Frustration? Hatred? All of those?
My friends looked anxious as they watched me struggle. I didn't want them to be scared of me...
"Someone should change the subject," I said in a falsely calm voice, squeezing the blanket tighter and closing my eyes.
Ron made an awkward stammering noise and eventually said, "Er- uh- um - I wonder what those things were in Hogsmeade."
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, and I heard the sound of her slapping his arm.
"What?" Ron clamoured defensively, "It's the only thing I could think of!"
A smile spread across my lips and my hands slowly relaxed, "You idiot, Ron." I murmured. He spluttered and Hermione made a chiding noise, but I could hear the smile in her own voice.
My magic was just beginning to relax and unwind when Harry spoke, his voice deadly serious, "Demons."
Panic spiked in my veins and a startling flash of a white face and soul-less eyes jolted my stomach uncomfortably; well that did it. The magic sprung into tight coils again and my eyes flew open.
"Harry don't... don't be ridiculous," Hermione protested breathlessly, either noticing my face or feeling the spook herself.
Harry didn't say anything else, but his bright green eyes remained troubled behind his circular lenses as he stared at the duvet.
"He isn't." I whispered, my body running cold and the heat dissolving. The silence seemed to grow heavier as I struggled to force out the words I'd been meaning to say all evening. How had Dumbledore said it so easily earlier? I blew a breath out of my mouth and swallowed hard. "They're- they're known as the Nordfrost..." I said quickly, clenching my toes against the cold that shivered through me at the mention.
"The Nord-what?" Ron frowned.
I looked up, my heart hammering. "The Nordfrost. They're... a myth, a legend of the underworld. A race of damned souls that shapeshift into forms more terrifying than their own to immobilise their victims. They're ice demons."
The renewed quiet was stunned.
My heart continued to thunder wildly and I felt heat rebloom and raise to my cheeks, throbbing under the skin of my palms. I clenched my fists and locked my jaw, "That 'dementor' wasn't a dementor. It was a shapeshifted Nordfrost." I told them, shaking beyond reason. It had all made sense of course, when Dumbledore read from the book he'd plucked off his own personal shelf. The dementor had acted oddly when we hit it with our patronus charms because it wasn't actually a dementor.
The next bit was the hardest to say. Harder than talking about the demons, harder than talking about Malfoy... this really clawed its way out.
"It- it's my fault." I stammered quietly. "I asked Dumbledore and he said that the chances of them being in Hogsmeade for another student was extremely slim. They were here for me."
A silent tear rolled gently down my cheek and I wiped it away, not looking at any of them. I saw Sirius again, that very last expression on his face - the look that said he knew it was over. The look that said I'm sorry. Because he knew he was leaving us behind and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew I'd let him down.
"Just like it was my fault at the ministry," I said, whining as a convulsive sob shook my ribcage.
"That wasn't your fault!" Hermione argued instantly, her own eyes all of a sudden shining with tears. "Tell her, you two! It wasn't her fault!"
Ron glanced at Harry, "It really wasn't." He said.
I stared at Harry, the boy who'd lost his very last because of me, because I couldn't save him, and the tears fell faster.
He looked up, his expression soft, and awkwardly patted my trembling knee. "It wasn't your fault, Wanda. Please don't blame yourself."
"B-but I could've- I should've-" I sobbed.
"No," he interrupted, holding my hands still and keeping them from shaking. "It wasn't on you to protect him. He wouldn't even have been there if I'd've just listened to Hermione - none of us would have. It's not your fault- it was never your fault. She killed him - not you."
Sounds ricocheted through my head; the snap of Bellatrix's curse, the moan of the veil, Harry's scream... it replayed over and over. Then flashes of white faces and snarling white teeth, scraping ice and blood-curdling screams.
"Harry, I'm sorry," I shuddered, pulling him into a hug even though my ribs ached awfully at the action. "I'm sorry to you all."
"Don't be!" Hermione cried, leaning out of her bed to clutch my left hand.
"Yeah, she's right you know," Harry said, pulling back, "You've been my friend for 5 years now."
I chuckled weakly and Ron clapped Harry on the back, grinning, "And we're not going anywhere." he said.
Harry smiled at him, "You never left me," he said, his face serious but thoughtful. "Whatever happens, we'll be doing it together. All of it."
The threat of sleep and the nightmares to come began to loom as tiredness swept over me again but I couldn't deny the warmth I felt because of the three people sat around me. I wiped my tears and squeezed Hermione's hand, "I love you three." I said softly.
"We love you, too," Hermione replied, smiling in the wandlight.
Ron nodded, grinning, "What she said."
"Thank you."
My eyes glistened in the reflection of Harry's glasses as he smiled back, as they all did, and I thanked whatever Gods existed that I had them by my side.
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