Chapter 110 — What We Had Missed

Cedric called my name from near the entrance as we reached the lower stairs. Water dripped from his robes, and mud streaked a sleeve of his Hufflepuff kit. I began asking about the match, then stopped at the way he looked between Hermione and me. He asked whether we had been there and, hearing that we had not, told us Harry was in the hospital wing.

The lion and the mirror left my thoughts. Cedric offered to explain on the way, and I started upstairs quickly enough for my legs to object. I caught the rail before they demonstrated the problem more convincingly, then kept to a pace I could manage. Hermione’s glance told me she noticed, though neither of us interrupted Cedric.

Weather made the match difficult from the start. Players had been driven off course, visibility worsened and injuries followed before he and Harry both chased the Snitch. Cedric was watching it when he caught it, he said, with his attention only returning to Harry afterwards. By then Harry was falling.

Hufflepuff had won. He supplied that detail without enthusiasm before explaining that dementors had come over the pitch. At our expressions he quickly added that Dumbledore slowed Harry before he hit the ground, then drove them away. I had spent enough time above the pitch to picture the height without asking for it.

Hermione wanted to know whether Harry was awake. He had been when brought in, Cedric said, and Pomfrey was with him. I could breathe more easily after that, although Cedric kept looking ahead while saying he should have noticed sooner. I reminded him that he and Harry were both trying to catch the Snitch.

He could not watch everything at once. Saying it brought an unpleasant awareness of where I had been while the match happened, but my absence did not make him responsible for the dementors either. We reached the ward, where Pomfrey stopped us long enough to establish whom we wanted before allowing us through.

Several beds were occupied. Wet Quidditch robes hung over chairs, and a voice behind a screen protested the attention given to a bruised shoulder. Harry was propped against his pillows, pale beneath his glasses, with Ron beside him holding broken wood in a bundle. He looked towards us and said there we were, making me glad of an ordinary greeting.

I asked how he felt. ‘Like I fell off a broom,’ he answered. I admitted I had hoped for something less accurate, drawing a small smile which did more for me than the answer. Cedric went round the bed and began apologising, but Harry stopped him before he finished.

Catching the Snitch was what Cedric had been meant to do, Harry said. When Cedric proposed asking about another match, he pointed out that Cedric had not brought the dementors onto the pitch. It seemed an incomplete answer to the part troubling him, but Harry repeated it patiently before looking towards the bundle on Ron’s knees.

‘I’m sorry about that, Oswald.’ Ron moved the cloth aside, revealing a Nimbus 2001 which nobody could call usable. Its shaft had split, with twigs and pieces of the tail gathered among larger fragments. Ron explained that it continued flying after Harry fell and reached the Whomping Willow.

Harry mentioned Wood letting him use it through the summer. I said we would tell Wood what happened, remembering that the broom belonged to the team and remained a loan. Providing the equipment had not turned each piece into a personal gift for which Harry now owed an apology. Ron said Wood already knew and wanted it left until Harry recovered.

We would do that, I told him. Harry tightened his fingers on the blanket and said he liked the broom, keeping his eyes on the pieces until Ron covered them again. I remembered the tool case bought in Hogsmeade and let him dislike the loss without insisting it meant nothing because he mattered more.

‘We can sort out what you fly next after Pomfrey lets you leave. You don’t have to solve it today,’ I said. He nodded as she returned, creating space around the bed with a look before examining him. His first claim to be fit for departure failed to impress her; feeling better than on arrival still meant remaining where she could watch him.

I drew up a chair once she allowed it. We discussed ordinary parts of the match for a while, including the difficulty of seeing anything and whether play should have continued. Ron had plenty to contribute there. Cedric said Sprout told him Dumbledore intended to take the intrusion to the Ministry, earning agreement from Harry and me.

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The dementors had been restricted to the perimeter. Whatever instructions the Ministry believed sufficient, Harry now occupied a hospital bed because those creatures came across the grounds. Hermione asked whether Cedric saw where they arrived from, but he could only say when he noticed them. She accepted the limit instead of supplying the missing minutes herself.

Cedric said goodbye twice before leaving, as though his first attempt had been inadequate. Harry thanked him for coming, and we stayed until Pomfrey decided he needed fewer visitors. Ron carried the broom fragments out while Hermione took Harry’s wet things separately. In the corridor, Ron stopped us to ask where we had been.

I said we were working on the transformation. He knew we had not seen the fall, he explained when I began saying so, but had kept looking for us afterwards. His voice rose before he glanced at the hospital door and lowered it. He expected us to come up behind the other people arriving, and we never did.

Hermione apologised for not being there. I looked at the wood he carried, remembering that he had collected it, waited beside Harry and tried finding friends who were somewhere he could not reach. I said we should have explained where we would be properly. It would not have stopped the accident, he replied, and I agreed, but he could have found us afterwards.

He nodded once. We moved aside when someone needed to pass, then went together to put the bundles somewhere suitable. Harry remained under observation while I took the opportunity to sit and let my own aches ease. Closing my eyes brought back the broad paws against the mat, an achievement I had wanted to announce without expecting to fit it beside this afternoon’s news.

It still mattered. Other things had happened while I accomplished it, and I needed room for those too. By the time Pomfrey permitted Harry to return, she made him repeat instructions with the patience of someone who wanted the conversation finished. We walked with him to the tower and found a quiet place after he changed into dry clothes.

Ron put the covered broom fragments safely aside. Hermione sat where she could see anyone approaching while Harry watched the fire. After a little silence he said he had heard the woman again, like on the train but clearer. Ron stopped turning a chess piece between his fingers.

Harry asked whether anyone else heard her. Hermione reminded him we had not been at the match and had heard no such sound on the train; Ron and I confirmed the latter for ourselves. He described the good things seeming to disappear before the voice came, leaving him unable to act. I remembered the useless light and brief fire of my own attempts against the cold.

‘We need to speak to Lupin again,’ I said. Harry looked up immediately at the mention of the lessons. I offered to send a note asking when we could meet, describing the match and requesting work to continue while waiting. He had given us the memory exercise after the boggart, but I wanted a date for the next step.

Harry agreed. I fetched paper and wrote beside the fire, then passed the note for him to read. He added a line and his signature beneath mine, his hand steadier than before. Other conversations remained for that evening, including one with the professor whose instructions I broke, but this could be done now. I took the folded note to Leo and asked him to deliver it to Lupin.

Luna found me after supper, already having heard about Harry. I described his condition when he left the ward, then we sat together on the bench beneath the window. She listened before asking about me, reminding me that I promised to explain what happened. Her question made a place for the story I had struggled to find throughout the afternoon.

‘It worked,’ I said. Her fingers closed round mine as she asked what I was, and this time I could not restrain the smile accompanying the answer. A lion sounded just as good said to her. I described the paws, mane and dreadful first attempt at making a noise, which made her laugh while I wished my legs were equal to showing her.

Perhaps I had a great deal to say without knowing how to say it yet, she suggested. I admitted that seemed to be a recent habit, then told her about the return: three attempts, fear during the first two and Hermione beside the mat with the emergency message. Luna’s smile faded before she asked whether McGonagall was there.

I said no and looked down at our hands. ‘I tried before she checked the final arrangements. She told me not to, and I went ahead.’ Luna remained quiet long enough for me to resist repeating the explanation in more flattering words. Finally she said she was glad I returned.

She was pleased about the lion too, but that did not make her less worried about the other part. I nodded as she leaned against me carefully, apparently noticing how I held myself. With my arm round her, we watched our reflections in the dark glass more clearly than anything outside.

I told her I wanted her to be the next person I told. She was glad I had told her all of it, she replied, then turned to kiss me gently. I rested my forehead against hers afterwards, too tired to search for a joke and content without one. The conversation owed to McGonagall felt no more inviting when we parted, but harder to avoid.

I finished Snape’s essays that evening. The last paragraphs took longer than they should, partly through tiredness and partly because writing about control after the day’s experience made careless sentences difficult to tolerate. When I put the quill down, completing an ordinary assignment felt like a reasonable place to end a rather less ordinary Sunday.