Blood Magic ✤ George Weasley ✓

81 - The Possum In The Night

musical mood: the show must go on - queen

When Cass opened her eyes, the first thing she was met with was the blurry face of George Weasley. Well, she assumed it was George, her vision was so unclear she couldn't quite tell, but what reason would Fred have to be hovering over her like a concerned mother?

"Where...where am I?" She murmured, attempting to sit up, though a hand on her shoulder prevented her from doing so. Not George's hand, someone else's. Alastor's, she realised, as she glanced to her left.

"You're at the Burrow." His tone was even more gruff than usual, and as her vision cleared, she could see his mad eye swivelling about. He let go of her shoulder, and she didn't try to push herself up this time, though it was tempting. Her head was spinning with every gentle movement she made, and her entire body ached, like she'd been in a car crash. "No one could get a direct answer for us as to what happened, or why you're covered in blood."

This was clearly an invitation for her to explain her version of events, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. As she breathed in and out, chest heaving with effort, the memories of that night came flooding back to her like a tidal wave.

"Henry..." She finally managed to whisper. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a tear run down her cheek.

"Henry?" George frowned. "What happened to him?"

Did they not know? Had they left the battle so soon after, they didn't find the victims?

"Theodore, he killed him." She choked back a sob, and George's eyes widened. "Henry's dead. Is Dumbledore...?"

"Dead. Snape killed him." Alastor nodded, his tone unreadable. She tore her gaze away from him, instead looking around her surroundings. She was on the couch in the living room, and all of the other Weasley's were there, plus Lupin, Tonks, Fleur Delacour, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, all doing their own things. No one seemed to have noticed she'd woken up.

"We tried to stop it." She continued, her voice trembling. "Henry and I. We went to stop it. But then, Theodore...he killed him. I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do, I wanted to protect you guys..."

Alastor shook his head. She refused to look at George, she could only imagine the disappointment he felt towards her. The disgust. "It isn't your job to protect us, Cassiopeia. It's my job to protect you, not the other way around. It isn't your job to protect anyone else but yourself."

"Yes it is, Alastor!" She cried as she sat up, and this time, he didn't try and stop her. "I didn't do enough of a job protecting my father or Cedric, and I'm paying for that every single day. And I didn't protect Connor, or Ana, or Henry, oh my God Henry..."

Her breathing grew shallow again, as images swarmed her mind of Henry's bloody, mangled body. Him dying in her arms. His last words to her, asking if she loved him. Oh, how she wished she hadn't. Maybe if she didn't love him in the end, she wouldn't be hurting so much right now.

"Lavender Brown said you were hit with the killing curse." George eventually spoke. "Is that true?"

She nodded slowly, tears streaming down her freckled face. She didn't need to explain how she survived, they both knew about the Bond by now, and understood just how real it was. "Is Slughorn dead?"

"Slughorn?" Alastor frowned. "No, he's fine, as far as I know. Why?"

"Theodore was supposed to kill him." She gulped. "Is anyone else dead?"

"Just some Death Eater. Gibbon, or something like that." George shook his head, and she let out a sigh of relief. Though her relief didn't last long, when he spoke again. "Cassie, I just don't understand, you knew this was going to happen? You knew Malfoy was going to try and kill Dumbledore?"