for editing

it's the hospital wing !! yay !!

His eyes had not even fully opened before Harry shot out of bed, putting a hand up to his face to block the blinding brightness of the morning sun and leaping to his feet. He pulled random clothes over him and threw on his glasses, and stopped only to glance in the mirror for a mere second.

Harry did not look well: His eyes were bloodshot, squinted, and puffy. His cheeks were hollowed, the skin red and scratchy around them, much like how he looked in his hunt for the Horcruxes, or how he appeared every morning he woke in the Dursley household.

That was too much to think about, so he darted out of the dormitory without a word to any of the boys there.

He did not take the time to dwell on his appearance, and was in the common room within seconds. The expectant, equally exhausted face of Hermione was looking up at him, her face melted into unreadable emotion. Ron was absent, Hermione accompanied only by Ginny and a puffy-eyed Neville.

"You're up!" exclaimed Neville upon Harry's arrival, who stood still at the bottom of the stairs.

"Listen," said Harry as he started towards the exit. "I'd love to chat, but I've got to get to the hospital wing to see —"

"It's all my fault!" Neville shouted and Ginny leapt up from the couch as he fell forward, crashing where she had sat only moments ago. "If I hadn't been so stupid, this wouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry, Harry, I am so, so sorry."

Harry was rooted to the floor. A sudden, heavy weight plummeted into his stomach, freezing him like a stopper had been placed on his brain, and a prickly cactus shoved down his throat.

"What —" Harry drew a breath, unable to dampen the rush of panic creeping to his chest. "Why would you be sorry?"

"About Oona!"

"What about her?" asked Harry: his voice alarmingly quiet and low, flat and eerily rough.

Neville seemed unable to continue, shoving his face into a pillow and clutching it with his fingers, which mashed it further into his face. Hermione watched him through a film, her eyes slightly glazed and emotionless, while Ginny glanced at Harry, just as fearful and on edge as he was.

Fear melted into sharp anger, and Harry found himself ripping the pillow off Neville's face, who emitted a small, broken moan of separation.

"Answer me," growled Harry. "What did you mean when you said you're sorry?"

Hermione snapped out of her trance, eyes widening at the sight of a fearsome Harry, his jaw clenched so powerfully that he felt a sharp pain in the back of his mouth, his fists clenching the pillow so hard that he could feel his hand through the fabric.

Neville quailed under this new, violent Harry. Ginny had her mouth open, eyes swiveling back and forth between a frightening Harry and trembling Neville.

"Answer me!" said Harry again, and Neville flinched.

"I — I was just saying," he gulped nervously, "that I was s- sorry about what — what happened to Oona because I — I heard her yelling at you —"

But Harry interrupted him.

"Is she alive?"

The fear finally showed itself through the layers of powerful, commanding anger. His voice had come out much weaker than the rest of him portrayed, standing over Neville with his body taut, muscles tensed stiffly and furiously.

Ginny had sat up with a start. "Is who alive? What happened?" No one answered her.

"Oh, Merlin, of course she's alive. I talked to you about this last night, Harry," Hermione sighed beside Neville, but Harry did not look at her.