Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 29: First Victims

Harry pounded quickly down the dimly lit hallways after Professor McGonnagol, whose face was tightly drawn and very pale; and although he was now a good three inches taller than her, he was surprised at the difficulty he was having keeping up with her pace.

Charlie, Bill and Mr. Weasley attacked… an image of their bodies, hopelessly mangled and twisted almost beyond recognition, flashed in his mind as he ran. A cold shiver travelled through Harry's body. If they were dead, well… he knew whose fault it would be.

They came to an abrupt halt in front of the twin stone gargoyles that marked the entranceway to Dumbledore's office. McGonnagol was completely breathless after running, and rightly so owing to her age, so Harry barked out 'sherbet lemon' for her.

The gargoyles leapt aside, and the stone staircase behind them suddenly groaned to life, scraping and grinding its way upward. Harry and Professor McGonnagol hopped a step and were wound swiftly upward toward Dumbledore's office, finally stopping on the warmly lit first floor.

Harry was not surprised to see Ron and Ginny already there waiting. The late afternoon sun streamed orange and dark yellow through the great window behind Dumbledore's desk, illuminating both of their equally stricken expressions as they paced trails into the scarlet carpet of the room; both dressed in moderately soiled Quidditch gear. Ron glanced up from chewing on his nails to see Harry and McGonnagol enter and dropped his hand to quickly stride over to Harry.

"You've heard?"

Harry nodded, noting with concern how Ron's face had paled to such a shade of white that his brown freckles stood out sharply in contrast. Ginny's less dotted complexion was equally as pale, though long wet trails now marred her pink cheeks.

"Professor, any news?" Ginny asked with dread as she strode toward Professor McGonnagol.

"Not yet," said McGonnagol grimly, "but he's only just left, Ms. Weasley. We must give the Headmaster time to meet with the rest of the Aurors to find out exactly what your father and brothers were doing; and more importantly, where they were when attacked. It'll be vital information for the Order's next move."

Ron whirled angrily on her and yelled. "But we don't even know if they're dead or alive! He could at least come back and let us in on that bit before he just sends a message our family's been attacked and runs off to investigate the whole bloody thing!"

McGonnagol sighed in understanding. "Ronald, the note Professor Dumbledore received was scrawled out so quickly; whoever wrote it obviously had no time to go into detail. The fact of the matter is when the Headmaster portkeyed for St. Mungo's he himself knew nothing of their states. As soon as he has word he'll let us in on straight away, I'm sure. He doesn't want you left in agony any more than I do."

She eyed them sympathetically as they stood closely together looking by all accounts, lost. "Try not to worry until we've got word… Please, won't you two have a seat…try to calm down a bit?"

Ginny shook her head rapidly still staring at the carpet as she paced. For his part, Ron goggled at the Professor with such disbelief that she felt forced to look away.

"So he's not even here?" said Harry, finally able to edge into the conversation.

McGonnagol shook her head and made her way round Dumbledore's dark polished desk to plop wearily into the wingback chair. "Fortunately I was here with him when he received the message or you three wouldn't be here even now. He had just enough time to tell me to have you three waiting in his office when he returned before he left straight to London for the hospital."

No sooner had the words finished leaving her mouth than a huge, bright green fire erupted in the grate of the fireplace with a loud whooshing sound, leaving after it a cloud of smoky ash, and a rolled up piece of parchment.

Ron practically dove for it and grabbed it up, tearing at the small red tie holding it closed. Ginny, Harry and Professor McGonnagol quickly gathered round, all peering anxiously down at it.

Minerva,

Have Ronald and Virginia portkey to St. Mungo's

straight away. Molly Weasley will be in the lobby waiting

for them. Harry and Hermione may accompany them if

they wish it. I should return shortly; until that time

please act as Headmistress in my stead.

Albus Dumbledore, H.M.

Ginny slapped her hands over her mouth and gave a sudden muffled sob. "Oh gods… If they were alright he would've said in the note… he would've said, I KNOW IT! Oh gods Ron… "

Ron looked very much as if he agreed with her and only had the energy at the moment to wrap a hand about her trembling shoulders.

McGonnagol's eyes quickly swept the office for some suitable object to be used as a porkey, when they finally landed on Dumbledore's purple and gold starred nightcap hanging limply near his dressing gown on a coat rack in the corner. Finding it to be as good as anything else, she grabbed it and headed towards the three teens standing and staring miserably at each other.

Ron's frightened gaze locked with Harry's as the professor approached. "I guess…m..maybe they were the first targets."

Harry screwed up his face in an attempt to control himself, feeling very much as if he would like nothing more than to melt down into the hardwood floor of Dumbledore's office and dissolve until he was no more.

He desperately wanted to run to them before they vanished into disorientating swirls from the portkey; to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness for allowing them and their family into his life, and as a result, for dooming them to danger and possible death. But the shame that tightened his throat, stung his eyes, and churned coldly in his stomach, only allowed him to stand and stare.

Ron swallowed and spoke hoarsely. "You'll be following us over, then?"

Harry paused quietly.

"If you want."

Ron frowned at him. "Wh… 'course we do… And bring Hermione too, all right?" He looked down at Ginny who stared ahead, terrified. "We'll be needing the both of you, I think."

McGonnagol moved tentatively toward Ron and Ginny and handed him the nightcap. He held it limply in his hands.

"Both of you grab onto it," she said in a strained voice, pulling out her wand and aiming it at the cap. "Y…You'll arrive in the front lobby of the hospital, so…so no worries…Portus!"

Ron and Ginny's forms appeared swirled and disfigured before Harry, until they both coiled into nonexistence with a loud *pop*.

As soon as the both of them had vanished, McGonnagol turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You may go get Ms. Granger now, Mr. Potter. I'll still be here when you return. You can leave straight away."

Harry nodded, feeling as if his head had been stuffed with cotton. Too many emotions fought for control of his thoughts, but guilt and fear raged louder than the others in his mind. They pounded in his head like a resounding deep drum, screaming accusations from the darkest recesses of his mind like a jury that had always lurked there, just waiting to pass judgement. His fault… their lives were on his head… all his fault…

As if in a dream, he moved heavily toward the stone archway that loomed over the downward spiralling staircase, but stopped at a hand that gripped his shoulder.

"Something for you to think on as you go," said McGonnagol; her voice a mixture of compassion and reason.

Harry froze in place, neither turning nor moving.

"Just you remember who did this, you hear me?" Harry nodded miserably once and moved as if to continue on, but she gripped his sturdy shoulder again. "No, look at me, Potter… You..did..not..DO..this. You are NOT to blame. You have no more control over Voldemort's actions than you have over the sun and stars." Her nostrils flared angrily as she continued. "He's held command of your life and emotions for too long, Harry. Don't you give him any more, you hear me? Don't you do it."

Harry found that it had become almost impossibly hard to breathe. He barely heard her as he gently pulled his shoulder from her grasp to jog down the moving staircase into the cold hallways of the school, leaving her, and her empty well-meaning words behind.

As he ran toward the common room he shared with Hermione, Harry felt cold dread begin to trickle down his spine. So it had begun. Voldemort's hatred and jealousy of him had finally begun to catch up with those he loved. Who would be next? Another Weasley; Ron perhaps, his father, Sirius… Hermione?

Harry's every nerve ending electrified with fear. He would NOT ALLOW IT. No matter what he had to do or what he had to sacrifice, he would NOT ALLOW IT. They meant too much…Great Merlin, SHE meant too much. Hermione was worth everything. She was priceless.

Harry passed several students as he jogged past, including Colin Creevey who miserably avoided his gaze, as usual. He passed Snape as well, noting quickly how the Professor looked immediately torn at the thought that his normally rotten behaviour toward Harry was for now, inappropriate. He settled for cold impatience.

"Don't think you're out of detention now Potter," Snape called severely after him. "Tomorrow morning I'll expect you in my classroom."

Harry suppressed the urge to tell him where he could go and decided on ignoring him.

He finally reached his and Hermione's rooms, calling out the password to Sir Cadogen quick enough so as to avoid yet again being challenged to a duel. He could practically feel Cadogen's disappointed frown from beneath his visor.

As he stepped inside, it took Harry only a quick glimpse of Hermione perched on the common room couch to guess what she had been doing. Her wavy hair sat piled atop her head in a messy bun secured by a spare quill, and opened books and parchments littered the area surrounding her. In a lesser situation, Harry would have grinned fondly at her only seconds before tackling her to the floor and snogging her breathless.

Now however, he found himself oddly distant.

Hermione frowned up at him as he approached. "Harry? Surely you've not done with detention already…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but as he looked at her, he found that his throat was too tightly constricted. She sat in front of the glowing fire, her smooth skin and large doe eyes lit with orange and dancing with flame shadows…She was so beautiful, so alive… and he was so unworthy of her…

Hermione noted the strained look on his face and her heart leapt to her throat. She was on her feet and near him in an instant, grasping his hands. "Harry, what is it love… What's happened, tell me…"

"Mr. Weasley," Harry choked out finally. "Bill and Charlie…They've been attacked."

Hermione blanched. "Oh my god…Oh god are..are they…"

"Dunno," said Harry thickly. "I don't know how they are. Dumbledore's already sent for Ron and Ginny. We're to meet them at St. Mungo's."

Hermione swallowed hard, tears now sliding down her cheeks. She moved to circle her arms about him. "Oh Harry…"

But Harry pulled back from her as if her touch burned his skin. "No…no, don't. Don't feel bad for me, Hermione. Save it for Ginny and Ron; they're the ones who need you now, not me."

Hermione studied him carefully as he held her at arms length, avoiding her eyes. Somehow, it terrified her. "But…the Weasley's are like family to you…"

Harry moved from her and grabbed up her cloak, helping her into it. He knew she was staring at him, bewildered, and still he couldn't bring himself to look at her. As an afterthought, he gently pulled the quill from her hair to allow it to tumble free once more. He knew she would forget to take it out.

"LIKE family, Hermione," he said flatly. "But they're not really mine, are they? I have no right to them."

Hermione stared at him and somehow, for some unknown reason, fear began to simmer within her, like a warning signal zinging from every nerve.

Harry shook his head and moved toward the portrait door, his steady façade now built like a wall around him. "Let's go; they'll be needing us."

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It was strange to Harry, to suddenly appear in the busy reception area of St. Mungo's. The last time he had been here along with the Order, they had walked along the bustling streets of London before stopping in front of an old-fashioned, red brick department store known as Purge and Dowse, Ltd. He had found himself then, staring into the eyes of a shabbily dressed female mannequin that had seemed to have seen better days, before one of the Order had spoken to her. She had then, to Harry's immense surprise, given them a slight nod and beckoned them forward to walk through her glass window; a window that, as they had passed through it, felt to them like a sheet of icy water.

They had come to see Mr. Weasley then too, although that time it had been only him, wounded by Voldemort's incredibly large python, Nagini. At least that time circumstances had turned out all right. Somehow though, Harry felt this time would not turn out the same.

Despite himself, Harry held tightly onto Hermione's hand as they wound their way through the crowd of patients and healers clad in lime-green, to stand in queue behind a few others in front of the reception desk.

A couple of spots in front of them stood a wizard with a small child who had obviously contracted a bad case of dragon pox. He continually pushed her small hand away as she tried to scratch at the scaly spots on her skin. Behind them a wizard, with the long, thin orange legs of a chicken, and a witch, whose body had been mostly turned into a cow, were still bickering loudly with one another. It didn't take many guesses to figure what their argument had been about.

Hermione had just enough time to goggle and point out a slightly red-faced teenaged wizard who had yards of engorged tongue wrapped about one arm as he was led away (Merlin, Harry…d'you think…Fred and George?) before it was their turn to approach the welcome witch.

She was a plump blonde witch dressed in the same lime-green uniform with a crossed bone and wand badge resting on her ample bosom. Her expression was almost blank with boredom as she let her eyes rake blandly over the young couple.

"Well… You two don't look injured. Here to see someone, then?"

Harry swallowed, once again trying to fight around the lump in his throat to speak.

"Arthur, Bill and Charlie Weasley," Hermione supplied quietly for him and squeezed his hand. Harry looked gratefully at her.

The witch took her wand and waved it briefly over the large tattered, yellow ledger in front of her, watching dully as it's pages began to flip by themselves. They stopped fluttering and landed toward the back, and she began tracing down the page with her wand, muttering to herself. Hermione held herself on tiptoe, curious to see how St. Mungo's patient tracking system worked, though Harry had a good view of the book, and the welcome witches suddenly more serious expression.

"Weas…oh. Oh! Oh, Weasley…I umm… This is… is your first time visiting the Weasleys, I gather…"

Harry frowned suspiciously at her. "Yeah, 'course it is. They were only admitted a few hours ago."

"Please, we'd like to see them now," said Hermione urgently.

But the witch only smiled comfortingly to her. "They're on the fourth floor, intensive care unit. But just you let me call the Weasley's Healer first. It might be a good idea for him to talk with you a bit before visiting, I think. If you'll just budge to the side for a moment… that's the way," she waved to the right of her desk. "I'll page him now; he'll be here shortly."

But Harry was having none of it. "What aren't you telling us? What's happened?" A bit behind him, Hermione was beginning to pale.

"Healer Jabilo will be with you shortly," said the blonde witch almost desperately, "Please, he'll explain everything if you'll just wait for him to arrive…"

"Wait my arse," said Harry through gritted teeth. He turned to tell Hermione he was going to head to the fourth floor and find them himself, but she was no longer behind him.

He took a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the crowd when they finally fell on her familiar brown head of curls standing near the lifts, though she was not alone. Harry's father now stood beside her, where both were engaged in conversation. He lifted his head when Hermione pointed Harry's way, and recognition sparked on his face. He waved him over, and Harry moved swiftly to join them. He hadn't even known his father had been informed...

Upon reaching them, he could tell James had been crying. It scared the hell out of him.

"Dad?"

But Lupin merely took Harry by the shoulder. "Come with me, son. Ron's been waiting for you."

He and Hermione entered the lift with him, and as the doors closed on them, Harry knew instinctively that he would rather wait the few moments it took to get to the fourth floor before hearing the bad news. At least for those few moments, they were blissfully unaware.

Upon reaching their desired floor, they walked on, passing numerous doors bearing the names of witches and wizards who had been incorrectly or almost fatally jinxed or hexed with one irremovable spell or another. However, all Harry could allow in his line of vision was the large orange door of the magical intensive care unit looming larger and larger before them as they walked.

The intensive care unit was full of curtained off areas, with healers, their helpers, and relatives of the sick or injured milling about, all looking hopeless and sad. As they passed the warded off areas, they saw loads of patients, all hooked up to one intricate looking machine or another; some awake, some not, and some looking as if they were only just grasping on to life.

Mrs. Weasley's swollen red eyes were the first Harry finally recognised amidst the crowd. Past her, members of the Order stood morosely nearby, though Ginny and Ron were no where in sight.

"Oh Harry," she sobbed, suddenly bustling toward him and squeezing him tightly to her. "Harry, you came...and you too, Hermione. Thank you, thank you…"

Harry stood there woodenly and let her hug him, thinking to himself that she should rather want to hurt him.

"Th...thank you James, I knew they'd probably be down there." She whispered to Lupin, and then turned back to Harry and Hermione, her expression full of pain. "I would rather have you told by myself or R..Ron o..or Ginny…"

Lupin patted Mrs. Weasleys arm, and Hermione looked from one to the other, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I...I've seen it s..so often in my dreams, but somehow... somehow I j..just never really saw it coming. And even after all of the w..wards and charms on the house, it made no d..difference...my god...my god, why..."

Mrs. Weasley was rapidly coming apart, and Hermione suddenly grabbed her in a hug, and then held her at arms length, watching her face twist in agony.

"Please Mrs. Weasley... Tell us what's happened…"

But she had already dissolved into tears and would have fallen to the floor had Harry and his father not caught her in time. Lupin helped her to a seat, when Harry and Hermione saw Fred, and then George walk slowly out from behind one of the curtains. Both faces were a picture of misery as George saw them and waved them over, and the absence of that usual mischievous smirk somehow made Harry sick. He'd never experienced George and Fred like this; it was almost as if he didn't know them.

With Lupin left to console Molly, Harry and Hermione moved tentatively over toward the others. Were it not for the presence of the Order, they would have felt like outsiders, intruding on a family in mourning. But the twins immediately ushered them inside where Ginny and Ron sat closely together in-between two beds, their backs turned. The absence of the third bed was immediately noticed.

"They need you," said Fred quietly. He moved Harry and Hermione inside and let the flap of the heavy sheet drop shut behind them.

Ron and Ginny turned, having heard the noise behind them, and Harry was shocked to see that not only Ginny, but Ron had been crying so hard, his eyes and nose were swollen and red.

"Got them while they were headed out on w..watch... for the Order, you know."

Harry plunged his hands into the pockets of his cloak, turning his eyes upward, his face screwed up in an attempt to keep himself from breaking. He had no right to it... He had no right, they weren't his...

Ginny stood and stumbled toward Hermione, who immediately took her into her arms where both girls began crying.

"Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Bill always had the worst temper," said Ron as he held his father's hand from one bed, and Charlie's from the other. Both laid still and pale, tubes and magical devices dripping and beeping all around them. "If he hadn't taken the last one on, Dad would be dead. Was just about to be killed when Bill took the bastard over. I...imagine he gave as good as he got you know... B..before he died."

And Harry's heart sunk like a stone. He had hoped, prayed even, that Bill's absence only meant he had been sent to some other ward; some ward to deal with spells not done here… But somehow, he had known. Mrs. Weasley had lost a son; it had been evident on her face the moment they had clapped eyes on her.

Ron looked up at Harry, and in that moment he looked by all accounts, completely lost. "Thanks for coming, mate. I..we... need you here. You're family, after all."

Harry winced. Family… The word stabbed him as if it were a blade. He turned his gaze back to Hermione and she met his eyes over Ginny's shoulder, her gaze red and watery.

And upon seeing her eyes, Harry broke. He could barely breathe past the painful lump in his throat. His chest constricted and hitched over and over as hot tears splashed down his cheeks. He shook his head as overwhelmed, he stared down at the tile floor. Bill had died because Voldemort wanted to taunt Harry, plain and simple.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, James, the rest of the Weasleys…Surely they would all soon come to realise how all along, he had been selfish in allowing them to love him. He should have refused them when they insisted on being with him. Instead of thinking of his own needs, he should have left them to live their lives in relative peace and safety. He had known all along that some time, a time when he least expected it, his self-service would result in the harm of those he had kept close to him. He had been too weak; he had broken. He had allowed people into his life, and as a result, they were all now beginning to pay. And the price was too immeasurably high.

He tried to speak clearly, but his throat could only strangle out a whisper. "Ron…"

"Don't Harry," said Ron quietly, beckoning a hand out to him. "Don't. Just come sit with us."

Hermione led Ginny to a chair next to Harry and moved to Ron, where she leaned over and hugged him from behind. Ron sagged into the hug gratefully.

Harry sat immobile as a statue staring at Mr. Weasley and Charlie, feeling the complete irony of a situation totally reversed from his childhood. For once, he was surrounded by too many caring souls.

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