"That's what I do. Drink and I know things." -Tyrion Lannister
Chapter 27: The Lighting Struck Tower
Third Person POV:
Once back under the starry sky, Harry heaved Dumbledore on to the top of the nearest boulder and then to his feet. Sodden and shivering, Dumbledore's weight still upon him, Harry concentrated harder than he had ever done upon his destination: Hogsmeade. Closing his eyes, gripping Dumbledore's arm as tightly as he could, he stepped forwards into that feeling of horrible compression.
He knew it had worked before he opened his eyes: the smell of salt, the sea breeze had gone. He and Dumbledore were shivering and dripping in the middle of the dark High Street in Hogsmeade. For one horrible moment Harry's imagination showed him more Inferi creeping towards him around the sides of shops, but he blinked and saw that nothing was stirring; all was still, the darkness complete but for a few streetlamps and lit upper windows.
"We did it, Professor!" Harry whispered with difficulty; he suddenly realized that he had a searing stitch in his chest. "We did it! We got the Horcrux!"
Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, Harry thought that his inexpert Apparition had thrown Dumbledore off-balance; then he saw his face, paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a streetlamp.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"I've been better," said Dumbledore weakly, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "That potion... was no health drink..."
And to Harry's horror, Dumbledore sank on to the ground.
"Sir — it's okay, sir, you're going to be all right, don't worry -"
He looked around desperately for help, but there was nobody to be seen and all he could think was that he must somehow get Dumbledore quickly to the hospital wing.
"We need to get you up to the school, sir... Madam Pomfrey..."
"No," said Dumbledore. "It is... Professor Snape whom I need... but I do not think... I can walk very far just yet..."
"Right — sir, listen — I'm going to knock on a door, find a place you can stay — then I can run and get Madam —"
"Severus," said Dumbledore clearly. "I need Severus..."
"All right then, Snape — but I'm going to have to leave you for a moment so I can —"
Before Harry could make a move, however, he heard running footsteps. His heart leapt: somebody had seen, somebody knew they needed help — and looking around he saw Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the dark street towards them on high-heeled, fluffy slippers, wearing a silk dressing-gown embroidered with dragons.
"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to — but what's wrong with Albus?"
She came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at Dumbledore.
"He's hurt," said Harry. "Madam Rosmerta, can he come into the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?"
"You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize — haven't you seen —?"
"If you help me support him," said Harry, not listening to her, "I think we can get him inside —"
"What has happened?" asked Dumbledore. "Rosmerta, what's wrong?"
"The — the Dark Mark, Albus."
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