In Between Two Worlds (HP/PJO Crossover)

Chapter 87: The Truth Comes Out Part 2.

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry and I in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. We didn't argue or complain, but we wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remnants of our Nimbus Two Thousands. I knew I was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but I couldn't help it; I felt as though I'd lost one of my best friends.

We had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering us up. Hagrid sent us a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny, blushing furiously, turned up with a get-well card she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit. It was pretty funny. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told us (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame us in the slightest. Ron, Bailey, Uncle Rem and Hermione left our bedside only at night or when they had classes. But nothing anyone said or did could make me feel any better, because they knew only half of what was troubling me.

Harry had told me about the Grim. The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, he had nearly been run over by the Knight Bus; the second, fallen fifty feet from his broomstick. But now after meeting Uncle Siri, I suspected that the 'Grim' was him. And it freaked me out that he was trying to get into the school again.

And then there were the Dementors. I felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. And not much can do that to me. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their head of their dying family members.

Because Harry and I both knew who that screaming voice belonged to now. We had heard her words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while we lay awake, talking, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approached us, we heard the last moments of Aunt Lily's life, her attempts to protect us, from Voldemort, and Voldemort's laughter before he murdered her... I dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on my Aunt's voice.

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where I was forced to think about other things, even if I had to endure Malfoy's taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry and me falling off our brooms. Malfoy spent much of our next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor. And then he took away another twenty because Bailey and I couldn't stop laughing.

"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," said Ron as they headed toward Uncle Rem's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione. "

Hermione peered around the classroom door.

"It's okay!"

Uncle Rem was back at work. Bailey and I walked over t talk to him.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"OK. It was easier this time with the potion Snape brewed." He said. "Thank you for your concern. Now head to your seats."

We sat down. Uncle Rem said, "Good morning."

At once everyone burst into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behavior.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves-"