Chapter 21: Whispered Words, Spoken Fears

Harry's Pov:

The wind roars past my ears as I dive, my Firebolt taking me closer and closer to the tiny golden ball hovering not six feet above the ground. I reach out and try not to slip off the broom. But just as my fingers close around the snitch, a searing pain shoots through the scar on my forehead – the second time in twenty-four hours – and I black out for a moment. The next thing I am aware of is my body sprawled on the grass, my head pounding, and my left arm aching.

I am also aware of strange sounds coming from far off – the castle, maybe. Everything is hard to discern; I am still disoriented from my fall. People are calling my name, surrounding me, asking if I'm okay. Am I okay? I think so. Yes, I'm fine, but what's going on? Can't I hear it? Isn't it obvious?

Then the noise becomes clearer. The strangling sounds seem closer. The screaming is terrible. Something is wrong. Horror, dread, images of Voldemort and the Dark Mark – all of these things flicker across my mind as I try to run through the crowd of Quidditch players and the locker room. My left arm hangs limp at my side, pain shooting through it every time someone bumps into it, but I don't stop to see what is wrong. There is more wrong inside the castle.

Outside the pitch, the castle, an ominous structure, stands atop the hill. Dark clouds have gathered and the daylight is almost swallowed by the eclipse. Terrified screams are running through the corridors and overflowing to the grounds. What has happened?

Another thought flashes through my mind in the panic and pandemonium. Where is Leia? I search the gathering crowd frantically, desperate for a sign of her. Is she okay? She's only been gone ten minutes, but what if she's back in the castle? The second I catch a glimpse of her I push through the throngs of students to place myself beside her.

"Leia!" I call to her, but she doesn't hear me. "Leia!" I finally manage to get to her side, but her presence does not reassure me. Her eyes are out of focus, her hands are shaking, and her breathing is anything but regular. Could this be terror I'm reading in her face? "Leia, are you alright?" She looks at me vacantly, but she doesn't answer. Before I can utter another word, she falls to the ground. I drop down to my knees and try to shield her from the bodies pressing in on us. But when I try to pick her up to take her somewhere else, someplace safer, I finally realize the exact state of my arm – broken.

"Hey, Potter, are you going to help her or not?" I look up and see Malfoy coming towards us.

"I tried, but it's a little difficult with a broken arm." I pointedly lift up my broken arm with my other hand. Why should he care anyway?

"Then I'll do it." He picks Leia up in his arms with ease. A wave of jealousy washes over me, but I push it aside. Something is terribly wrong and this is no time for petty argument. "Where should we take her?"

"Someplace out of harms way." I look around and see the only safe house I know of. "There." I point toward a tree I've encountered many times before. Malfoy doesn't seem to understand.

"The only thing in that direction is the Whomping Willow."

"Exactly."

He still doesn't know what I'm talking about, but he doesn't need to, not yet.

"Just follow me."

I push through the crowd and Malfoy, carrying Leia's limp form, follows closely. Eventually we break off from the confusion and race toward the Whomping Willow. When I'm sure no one is watching us, I send a spell at one of the knots under the tree and the branches stop swinging immediately. Malfoy barely stops to acknowledge this, however, and hurriedly follows me into the base of the tree. He gently pulls Leia through the narrow tunnel and in no time we've made it to an old house that sits on the edge of Hogsmeade.

"What is this place?" Malfoy wonders aloud as he lifts Leia up onto the dusty bed.

"The Shrieking Shack."

He lowers his eyebrows in suspicion.

"How did you know this passage was here?"

"I've used it before," I answer dismissively. I do not like his presence here.

"What happened?" he asks from the bedside.

"She fainted, you idiot."

"Yeah, Potter, I can see that. And that isn't what I meant. Do you know what happened in the castle to create such pandemonium?"

"No, how could I?"

"We should go back and find out," he suggests – all too seriously it seems to me.

"And leave her alone?" I accuse.

"Of course not. I'll stay with her."

"I don't think so, Malfoy." I don't even try to hide the suspicion and jealousy in my voice.

"You're being a little over-protective for just an acquaintance," he responds, a smirk playing on his lips. I return the look with a glare.

"We're good friends," I explain quickly – a little too quickly.

"Even for a good friend."

"What difference does it make to you?" I snap. He flinches and turns to look at Leia's limp and barely-breathing form.

"You're not the only one who cares about her," he whispers as he faces me again.

"If you two really cared that much," a strained voice whispers from the bed, "you'd be over here helping me instead of fighting over who gets to give the eulogy at my funeral."

We both turn to face the bed faster than if we had spotted the snitch. Leia has barely moved, but her head is lifted slightly. It looks as though that single motion has cost her a great amount of energy. She gives Malfoy a pleading look and forwards it to me before collapsing on the dusty sheets. Why did she look at him first? I'm her boyfriend.

No, you're not, a voice reminds me. A frown passes over my features with the realization. We have become closer, but I never officially asked her out. I make a note to do so once this is all over. But first, we have to find out what's wrong with her. Malfoy is already bending over her and studying her robes and the bed covers.

"Shit." I move closer at his quiet exclamation.

"What's wrong?" I ask, matching his volume.

"Blood - a pool of it."

"She's hurt? How bad?" I race to her side and instinctively grab hold of her hand in my panic.

"Severe," he confirms, untying some blood-soaked, makeshift bandage that was wrapped around her chest. "Hey, get me something we can use as a bandage. This piece of cloth is worthless." He tosses the thing aside. I hurry to the cabinets and dressers, trying to find a suitable bandage. Rifling through the drawers, I come across a set of linens. I rip one and pass the piece off to Malfoy.

"Here, it's part of a sheet I found in a drawer."

"It's pretty dusty," he observes. "See if you can clean it off a little." I take it and quickly draw my wand.

"Scourgify! That should work."

"Perfect." He binds it around her wound, a wound I never really got a good look at, and pulls off her damp robes. We both stand back and look at each other. We don't say anything, but what would we say? We hate each other, yet somehow we're standing here taking care of the same girl. There is something quite unnatural about this picture.

In the silence, I hear Leia gasp for air. I hurry to her side and attempt to scoop her limp form into my arms, but I cringe from the immediate pain as I am reminded of the state of my arm.

"Something the matter, Potter?" A smirk plays on Malfoy's lips. I reply with a scowl.

"Yeah, Malfoy. My damn arm's broken."

"I could fix it for you."

I stare at him suspiciously.

"First off, I don't trust anyone, aside from Madam Pomfrey, with my broken bones. And second, why would you want to fix my arm?"

"I don't want to, but for her sake I will. I carried her here; you can carry her back. My arms need a rest."

"Oh, not strong enough?"

"I'm strong enough, but dead weight is difficult to carry over long distances. You'll see what I mean."

"Fine, do it quickly." I close my eyes and hold my arm out to my biggest rival, hoping for the best. I'm only trusting him now for Leia's sake, and if he ever brings this up again, I'll kill him.

Within a few moments, Malfoy backs off and I look down to see my arm intact and fully healed – no missing bones, thank Merlin. I hesitate no longer in scooping Leia into my arms.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" Malfoy asks, mockery clear in his tone. I choose to ignore him. There's no way I'm thanking that jackass.

"We have to get her to Madam Pomfrey," I say, making my way toward the secret tunnel.

"Back through the Whomping Willow?" Malfoy inquires in a tone that suggests he has anticipated my actions. I do not respond to his question with a nod, but rather two short, commanding words.

"Let's go."

We go slowly through the tunnel to spare Leia's body from as much further trauma as possible. But when we exit the Whomping Willow, our eyes are met with a strange, ominous sight.

"The crowd has disappeared," Malfoy breathes. The grounds are completely empty. Even the trees are still. There is no sign of life. It is, for lack of a better word, spooky.

"I bet they're all inside," I say, more to make to the hairs on my neck fall down than to state any sort of hunch. I start for the castle and don't check to see if Malfoy is following me. Although, I'm pretty sure he is. He had a look in his eye before that made it clear he was willing to stay with Leia as long as I was. Now, all I want to know is what gives him – a no-good Slytherin – the right to be anywhere near her.

Inside the castle, I can hear the commotion from the Great Hall. Everyone seems to have gathered there. Malfoy opens the door and pushes people out of the way as we make our way towards Professor Gerwin. For some reason Malfoy feels she will know more about this than Madam Pomfrey. I find that hard to believe.

People go quiet as we push through. Their sentences die uncompleted. Their words linger in the air, faint echoes in the massive hall. Professor Gerwin turns around at the disturbance in the atmosphere – those strange vampire senses at work again, no doubt – and immediately spots us through the crowd.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, what happened? Is she alright?" she questions, running over to us and taking her daughter from me. She moves so quickly that at first I barely notice when she takes Leia and puts her down on the ground. It is the sudden lightness of my arms that clues me in. Professor Gerwin kneels down beside the limp form of her daughter and begins to examine her injury. Students and teachers crowd around to see what has happened. They whisper of things that trouble me. Dumbledore's in trouble… The Ministry may be, too… Leia might be connected… All of these thoughts run through my head with the whispered words as I watch Leia's face for any sign of waking.

Leia's Pov:

Everything is dark. My breathing is shallow. The pain seems to have all but disappeared, but I know it will be back. Somehow I know. I feel strange. I can't hear any sound except for my breathing. Did I faint again? I suppose I did. The last thing I remember is lying on a bed in the Shrieking Shack. Draco and Harry were fixing up the gash across my chest. Then it all disappeared.

Now I am floating in a dim light, my senses dulled. I hear voices – whispered words, spoken fears. There is a strange calm in the air that is characteristic of a lull before the pandemonium. But the pandemonium has already begun. So why is everyone suddenly so calm? Where is the lingering confusion, the roaring panic, the racing fear? Do they not know what has happened this dark morning in the wizarding world? I get lost in my thoughts. I remain suspended in the mist of unconsciousness. Then suddenly I shudder from the sudden cold and pain that washes over me, as I'm thrown back into harsh reality. The voices grow in volume.

"Potter, hold her down. I can't do this if she's convulsing." My mother's voice.

"This isn't hurting her, is it?" Harry's voice.

"She's already in pain, you idiot. A little more isn't going to be noticed." Draco – of course. And for your information, Mr. What-Could-It-Hurt, it is noticed.

My mother's voice sooths me and the pain begins to dissipate as she continues to care for me. What she is doing I do not know, but I am grateful nonetheless.

"Who did this to her?" Mother asks of those around her. I know she has her suspicions – after all, she was told of my plans – but she seems to be hiding it pretty well.

"We don't know," Draco responds. "I was in the changing room when the screaming started. I ran outside with the rest of them."

"We saw her faint soon after that," Harry interjects.

"No one saw what happened?" my mother inquires, getting angry. I wonder whether she is acting or not.

"Death Eaters." The words escape my lips. Exhaustion rings through them. I'm surprised I can speak at all. My eyes are still closed and I still feel disconnected from the world around me.

"Who said that?"

"I think she did, Mr. Potter," my mother answers. She sounds relieved this time.

"Leia? Leia, are you okay? What happened?"

Silence. I can't find the energy to say anything more. But I don't need to. In the distance I can hear renewed commotion.

"It's McGonagall and Snape," I hear Harry whisper.

"They're certainly in a hurry," Draco observes.

"Vanessa," McGonagall calls from a short distance away, "may I have a word with you?"

"Only if we can have it right here, Minerva," Mother calls to her. "I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Oh, goodness me, Vanessa! What happened?" McGonagall's voice is an octave higher now.

"She said it was Death Eaters."

"But what about them? Did she say anything else, Mr. Potter?"

"No, Professor. Just 'Death Eaters'."

"What type of Dark Magic is this?"

"It is terrible magic and beyond my skills," Mother says, sounding defeated and angry. "If we can't find some way of treating this wound, I'm afraid she won't live through the night. I hate to even think of it, but she has lost too much blood. Not much will sustain her now." Mother seems as though she is about to cry. If I had the energy I would cry as well. What kind of spell did the old man use on me? I didn't think he knew such powerful and terrible spells. And that assumption alone makes me a fool. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Did my father even gain anything by it?

"But you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Harry exclaims, startling me, even in my weakened state, and probably everyone around us. "You're supposed to know. You're supposed to know how to save her!"

"Mr. Potter! I'm a witch and a vampire, not a miracle worker. If I knew what to do, I would."

Silence fills the air as the room holds its breath. I begin to lose consciousness again, but I force myself to stay alert when I hear Harry's voice again.

"That's it! Professor, you're a vampire. You can change her and keep her alive!"

"No, Mr. Potter." My mother's voice is very firm, full of hatred. "I will not subject her to such an existence. Merlin help me, but I would beg her forgiveness and let her die before I would even consider the possibility of my only daughter living through what I've had to."

Everything is frozen in the stunned silence. I can only hear my shallow breathing in the stillness. I feel Harry kneel down beside me. How do I know it's him? Because only Quidditch robes rustle that way. It's amazing how much one notices when it comes down to the end. But is it the end? I cannot say. I am only aware of the warm breath upon my cheek as Harry sighs.

"Forgive me, Leia," he whispers. I doubt anyone else can hear him. "I wasn't thinking. I never want to hurt you. And even if you can't hear me, I promise you I will be right beside you until you come out of this." I cannot manage to part my lips enough for normal words, but I am able to express my gratitude in whispered Parseltongue.

"Thanks you, Harry. I can't see you, but I can hear you. Thank you."

He gently takes my hand in his, but everything is quickly interrupted. A new voice appears out of nowhere and speaks quickly.

"Minerva, what's going on here? Have you told her yet? We have to send word, although I'm sure the Dark Lord is spreading the news far and wide himself." It's Snape's voice. I'd know it anywhere, now.

"What were you going to tell me, Minerva?"

"Just that-" She stops and continues in a low tone, enough for only a few of us to hear. "Our headmaster is dead and the Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry. We need to get the students settled down so we can inform them of the situation."

It's done then. Father will be pleased. But will he be pleased if I'm dead?

"I'll get them seated. That is, if you don't mind if magic is involved."

"I mind, but go ahead. Just get it done."

"In a moment. Severus, do you recognize this curse?"

"Who did this?"

"She said it was Death Eaters. I haven't been able to identify what exactly they did, nor have I found a means of healing the wound. All I know is the gash goes from here to here and it just barely missed her heart."

"Move, Mr. Potter. I might be able to save her if only…" If only what? But they can't hear my thoughts. The voices trail off, but it must only be me. I slowly slip back into unconsciousness and the world is dark again.

Draco's Pov:

I pull Potter away by his robes when Snape kneels down to help Leia. He isn't too thrilled, but his eyes show he understands. Has something happened between those two? Merlin, I hope not. Why should Potter have her instead of me? It wouldn't be right. The Dark Lord's daughter and The-Boy-Who-Lived? Impossible. It would never work. I bet Potter doesn't even know.

"Get her to the hospital wing, Mr. Malfoy," Snape orders. "I performed the counter spell, but she needs attention."

"Yes, sir." I scoop the Dark Lord's heir into my arms and hurry out of the Great Hall. I can feel Potter's piercing gaze on my back the entire way. It seems to take longer than usual to get to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps it's the weight of Leia's unconscious body; perhaps I'm just more aware of the route this dismal morning.

Yes, dismal. By all rights I should be thrilled, proud of what we accomplished. After all, Dumbledore is dead and the Dark Lord has control of the Ministry and, therefore, the wizarding community. But being a Death Eater, even when things go well, isn't as rewarding a feeling these days – at least not for me.

This might be my fault.

Yes. My fault. All of it – the blood, the suspicion surrounding Leia, the unconscious state of my partner in crime. I hesitated; I didn't do the one task she appointed me to do. It figures. I'm finally trusted with something important and I blow it. And on top of it all, I didn't just put my friend in more danger – I put the Dark Lord's daughter in the hospital. Way to go, Malfoy. Fantastic job.

Once in the Hospital Wing, I set her on a bed for the second time today – only this time there are clean sheets and sterile walls. A contrast I don't favor too well. I call for Madam Pomfrey. She comes out from behind the curtain of a bed on the other end of the ward.

"Another fatality, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks, her voice weary and her eyes, too.

"Not yet, Madam Pomfrey. Professor Snape told me to bring her to you."

She walks closer and takes a brief look at Leia's injury. A frown comes over her features.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll take care of her from here. You better get back to the Great Hall."

I hesitate, but do as she says. I'll sneak back up later.

Vanessa Gerwin's Pov:

"Silencio!" I move my wand in an arc over the heads of the students. The Great Hall goes silent immediately, although some are still making futile attempts at speech. I walk up to the stairs to the platform where the staff table usually resides and face everyone. With a wave of my wand, the tables and benches move back into place. Students and professors shift to one side or another to avoid getting hit.

"Please," I say, motioning with my hand, "sit down." I take the spell off and whispers race through the room as if a great breeze were blowing in from the chill October morning.

"I don't know what rumors have been flying around or what some of you may have seen or heard, but I am here to tell you why you are all here." I take a deep breath with the intension of hiding my true feelings about the situation through pretend shock and grief. "Our headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, has been murdered, and the Dark Lord's followers have taken over the Ministry." An explosion of renewed pandemonium rips apart the silence. Minerva and Severus join me on the dais. I wait for everyone to quiet down before continuing.

"As you all now realize, we are in need of a headmaster. Since Professor McGonagall is Deputy Headmistress, she will now become Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts. It will be up to her to decide if that is a temporary or permanent assignment. The school will remain open. However, due to the collapse of the Ministry under the Dark Lord's reign of terror, we will not get in the way if your parents wish to take you out of school for safety. Although, we assure you that Hogwarts is still safe enough at the present time."

"Safe?!" someone yells from the back of the hall. "Our headmaster has been murdered and you call that safe?"

"Mr. Downing, I may not know who killed Albus Dumbledore, but I can assure you their thoughts as they fled the grounds betrayed nothing of a plan to take over the school. It seems as though the Dark Lord only wanted Professor Dumbledore dead – for now."

"How do you know what they were thinking?" a young first year pipes up from the Hufflepuff table.

"For those of you who try to sleep through my class, I am a vampire and my specialty is hearing people's thoughts. When we found the headmaster in his office, I immediately listened for the one responsible. I never heard their name, only their orders and their motives."

Whispers dance in the air – worries, fears. Ah, I love the smell of fear and chaos. It is a vampire's favorite smell. It is one we cherish just before we sink our teeth into the flesh and let the blood gather on our tongues.

No. I mustn't think about feeding. I can't afford to slip away right now and thinking about it only makes me hungry. Oh, so hungry.