An accident during Auror training sets Harry Potter on the slow realization that he wants to spend the rest of his life helping people - not by arresting dark wizards as an Auror-but by healing and taking care of people.
He goes back for his eighth...
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"Stupefy!" Harry's spell knocked out the other Snatcher as he turned, jumping off the crate to approach Charlotte.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hermione was always the medic. She was the best with healing spells and potions. What would he do now that she was injured? Why hadn't he paid more attention to Madam Pomfrey when he was always in the damn hospital wing?
The screaming made it hard for him to think. He felt like he was unraveling. How the hell was he going to save her? What should he do? The harsh sound of the gate clanging echoed through the arena, managing to cut through the screaming. His wand whipped up as two elderly wizards in green robes ran inside and they came to an abrupt halt at his wand, their hands up, talking fast.
He couldn't hear them over the damn screaming. Who was screaming?
Robards ran in, yelling at Harry to get ahold of himself and to lower his wand. He told Harry that the wizards in green were medics and that it was Charlotte who was injured. It was Charlotte, not Hermione.
Of course, Harry knew it was Charlotte. He wasn't crazy.
Harry saw Robards eyes move over his shoulder and nod to someone behind him, and started to turn. His own screaming overshadowed the rushing sound of the spell coming at him.
Harry felt the stunning spell hit him in the back, and the world went dark, the screaming finally stopping as he hit the floor with Hermione's name on his lips.
Harry woke up abruptly, disorientated as the zing of a rennervate spell rush through him putting a faintly metallic taste in his mouth and his eyes snapped open. Thoughts whipped by at lightning speed through his mind.
Alastor Moody's gruff voice echoed loudly in his mind, almost a scream in his ear. Constant vigilance!
The blurry shapes of death eaters surrounded him. One was close enough so that even without his glasses, he could see the wand at their side.
Harry snatched the wand and started casting before they could speak. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"
He felt the cool rush of the stunning spell pulling him under as loud thumps of bodies hitting the floor resounded through the room.
Harry woke for the second time much more slowly, his body feeling like it had been beaten. He threw his hand out blindly until he felt his glasses on the table next to him, putting them on. There was a sour taste in his mouth and when he blinked his eyes open, he was in a dimly lit room with an elderly wizard in green robes who vaguely reminded him of Dumbledore. A healer from St Mungos.
