❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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LXVI. TILL WE DIE, NOT
━━━━━━
"And the funny thing is I would've married you
If you'd have stuck around"
"C'MERE, HARRY..."
"No."
"Yeh can' stay here, Harry..." Hagrid managed, "Come on, now..."
"No."
Harry's voice was barely audible, hollow. He stared at Dumbledore's lifeless form, his body refusing to move. He couldn't leave. Not yet. Hagrid's grip tightened slightly, as if trying to ground them both in the moment, but it only served to deepen the ache in Harry's chest.
Nearby, Marjorie stood frozen, her mind numb with shock. The sight of Dumbledore lying there, motionless, felt unreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake from. Her thoughts were scattered, her breath shallow. It felt like the world had caved in, and nothing made sense anymore.
"Evermore," Professor McGonagall's voice broke through the haze, pulling Marjorie from her reverie.
Marjorie looked up, meeting McGonagall's tear-streaked face, the professor's usually stern expression softened by grief. McGonagall's lips trembled as she swallowed back her emotions, but her tone remained steady, commanding.
"Have Potter and yourself gather in the hospital wing. Everyone else is there. I will... I will take care of this scene," McGonagall said, her voice thick with sorrow, her gaze briefly flicking to Dumbledore's still figure. "Please,"
Marjorie nodded. She didn't want to leave either — well, more so she couldn't find herself to leave. It just seems too unreal, and leaving would mean not being able to make sense of the tragedy that had befallen them. But from McGonagall's pleading look, it wasn't something she could ignore.
"H-Harry,"
Slowly but surely, she knelt beside Harry, and ultimately Dumbledore hesitantly. Never in her whole life as a witch, would she ever thought she would approach the body of one of the greatest wizards known, lifeless. Hesitantly, her shaky hands reached for his cheek.
"Harry," she called again.
His face was hidden from the eyes of others, curtained by his mop of messy black hair of his. "He's gone..."
"I-I know," said Marjorie softly. "But you can't stay here... not with that cut... Let" — she swallowed thickly — "Let's get that cut fixed, yes?"
Without thinking about it, without even realising it, he felt himself rising and moving, obeying. Only as he walked blindly back through the crowd did it occur to him that Marjorie was guiding him back into the castle. Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but they walked on, back up the steps into the entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry's vision, people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as they made their way toward the marble staircase.
