Annabeth Chase and Things Are Getting Intense

Chapter Thirty Six

Annabeth found Harry outside, sulking by the quidditch pitch, right where she thought he'd be. Whenever Harry was upset, he turned to Quidditch. He looked upset enough, so Annabeth didn't yell at him right out of the gate. She knew there was more to the story than what Moaning Myrtle had been screaming about in the bathroom.

She sat down next to him. "Care to explain what happened?"

"It was an accident," Harry said immediately, like he needed to make Annabeth understand. "He was starting to cast the cruciatus curse and I didn't think—I just cast the first spell on my mind and—he just—"

He buried his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to."

Annabeth was silent for a moment. "What did you use?"

Swallowing, Harry looked at her. His eyes were wide, pleading. "Don't hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" Annabeth asked gently, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry looked away. "I used a spell from the Prince's book. I know you don't like it; you were right. You said something bad would happen and it did. And now it's hidden away in the Room of Requirement and I don't know if I should go back for it or not. Just—there was so much blood. I've never seen that amount of blood in my life, not even last year in the Department of Mysteries... why would the Prince make a spell like that?"

"Moving away from the Prince for a second," Annabeth said, "what happened? How did it come to that? He didn't just see you and try to curse you, right?"

"No," Harry murmured. "We were in the bathroom and I was watching him—" his face went cherry red, and he covered it with his hands again. "That sounded bad! It wasn't like that! I walked in and he was by the sink and he was crying and talking about how he couldn't do something... he was saying that someone would kill him if he didn't pull it off... and Moaning Myrtle was comforting him, and then he spotted me and he pulled out his wand..."

Annabeth had been right. Malfoy was caught up in something bad, he was in over his head, and he didn't see any escape. He was scared. It was so much like what Luke's situation had been that Annabeth had to swallow around a lump in her throat before she could say anything.

"And you dueled," she said. Her voice was a little thick, but she reminded herself that this situation was different, that it wasn't repeating itself. This wasn't Luke, it was Malfoy, and there would be a different outcome.

"I didn't think you'd be upset about that part," Harry said, looking at her curiously.

Annabeth shook her head. "I'm not. So you dueled. And then he started casting the curse, and you cast... what?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"What did you cast, Harry?"

"I... it's called sectumsempra. I know I shouldn't have used it, but it was the first thing on my mind and I didn't know what it would do—"

"Sectumsempra," Annabeth muttered. "Harry, that means cut off. You didn't—?"

"No!" Harry said hurriedly. "No, it just opened a few gashes in Draco's—I mean, in Malfoy's chest, it didn't cut anything off of him, he still has all his limbs—he's being healed up my Madam Pomfrey now, I'm sure he's going to be fine, but—"

"What happened after you cast the spell?"

Harry swallowed again. "Myrtle started screaming that he'd been murdered and Snape came running in. He knows about the Prince—he told me to get my potions book, but I gave him Ron's instead. And now I have detention every Saturday for the rest of the year, so there goes the Quidditch cup as well..."