The Tear Collector (a Harry Potter fanfic)

Chapter Seven: Tears of Pain

Almost a week had passed since the murder of Orsay Westwall, and though they were still cautious, the pupils and teachers of Hogwarts could dine in the Great Hall almost peacefully.

It was ten to six when Professor Dumbledore waved an old hand and dismissed the castle to bed. With full stomachs and a day of hard work behind and ahead of them, the Hogwartians traipsed to common rooms and bed chambers. One however, just one, didn’t.

Ravinder Gem strolled surreptitiously to the Girls’ Bathroom, doing her best to lurk in the shadows along the way. As she reached the chamber’s door, she fumbled in her bag for her medication, then using the same hand to support her aching forehead. The pain had started years ago, though she had never quite got used to it. Her pills would help, but they were only short-term relief. According to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Ravinder had a brain tumour. Quite simply a brain tumour. Even Muggles got them.

Ravinder stumbled to the sinks, feeling a cough climb her throat. She let it escape and opened the rattling container in her hand. She took from it a small purple pill that was placed into her mouth. Spinning the tap she had been leaning on, she doubled over and sipped the water through her lips. She straightened up and looked into the mirror. Staring back at her was a tall thin girl, with coppery hair and gleaming silver eyes. The smallest of gulps could be heard as Ravinder swallowed the pill. And then she was aware of a pair of eyes burning the back of her head. She could not see their reflection in the shadowed mirror but she could feel them. Fear filled her as she swung around.

‘Who’s there?’ she called. A quiet giggle replied, followed by a squeal of a voice.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a visitor.’ Ravinder let out a breath of relief as Moaning Myrtle sighed and drifted away into a nearby toilet cubicle.

‘Sorry,’ Ravinder said, ‘I needed to take my pills.’

‘Oh, don’t be sorry,’ Myrtle whined and Ravinder was sure there was a sob on its way. ‘I would be more worried about getting back to Ravenclaw common without being caught by those nasty Ministry officials. After all, it is after six.’ Ravinder shot up her arm, reading the gold watch on her wrist. Where had the time gone? Perhaps this was another symptom of her tumour.

‘Oh, I’ll have to go, I can take a shortcut,’ she whispered, partly to herself.

‘Oh but being arrested is the least of your worries. I hear the murderer’s still in the castle. It’s exciting isn’t it? I’ll have lots of new friends to keep me company here in my bathroom.’

‘Yes,’ Ravinder agreed absent-mindedly, heading to the doors. She left without another word to Myrtle and began to head towards the statue of the One-Eyed-Witch or as Ravinder knew her to be: Gunhilda of Gorsemoor. The passageway led to Hogsmeade but there was a turning that Ravinder knew of that lead to the fifth floor, where the staircase to Ravenclaw Tower could be located.

She hurried, gazing at her watch now and then. Now and then, pain bit at her head, stirring a sickening feeling that infected her vast mind. She tried to ignore it, and concentrated only on getting to statue. On several occasions she had almost been seen by the Officials, but nerve and knowledge assisted her. Reaching the end of the corridor, Ravinder reached forth for the shape of the witch. Her fingertips were merely inches away from the cold stone when her head seemed to split wide open. Both hands shot up to her head and so much pain dominated her that she retched in an attempt to release it. The pain passed however, along with the accompaniment of nausea. And she sank to the floor, fearing unconsciousness. Her eyes bulged, scarlet and swollen. Tears formed and she snatched them away before gravity could, not aware of what lay in the shadows behind her.

Ravinder rose and reached once more for Gunhilda, but what came next was worse than the pain her tumour had supplied. An icy coldness sunk its fangs into her and she spun around as if expecting to find someone pouring snow down her back. But what met her instead was even colder. In the darkness was a shape. It was as black as the purest night sky and as fearsome as the Devil himself. Ravinder’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’ and she tried to force herself to move. But then, an excruciating fire burned through her heart and her soul squirmed in an evil torment. She dropped to the floor, more tears escaping her as blood soaked her robes until they resembled Gryffindor’s.  Ravinder Gem faded like an empty cloud, with no purpose left in the world.