Harry Potter and the Inferi Cohort

Chapter 4: Souls or Nonsouls

The dawning sun broke over the lake and woke Harry. He had been dreaming that he was crammed into his cupboard like a too large Alice when she'd eaten the EAT-ME cake. He groaned as he awoke. His neck ached and his glasses were askew. The cottage was chilly as the fire had died. He untangled himself from the coverlet and checked to see if his clothes had dried during the night.

They were dry, though his trainers were still damp. He threw them on and hurried to the door, hoping that it was early enough that he wouldn't cause school-wide panic just going to the hospital wing to see how Neville and the others were. His stomach rumbled and he hoped he'd be able to grab an early breakfast, too, before many people made it down to the Great Hall.

He didn't wait to see if his horde was following him out of the room... their sounds were enough to let him know that the enchantment that bound them to him hadn't broken overnight.

Their sloshing and clattering progress through the corridors, down the stairways, and to the hospital wing was slow at best, and Harry figured it was pretty good luck that they had only startled Mrs. Norris, who took off running...bottlebrush tail skewing to the right and hind feet gaining on her front feet... straight to Filch, no doubt. He didn't even count that, really.

Harry reached the double doors to the hospital wing and stood outside for a little bit, wondering what he should do, until the putrescence of his companions started to overwhelm him as they crowded around him. He tugged open the door and tried to quietly enter the wing.

He spotted Neville's bed first and started toward it. Neville was stirring, but was facing away from him. A vulture-embellished witch's hat was on the table by the bed, but his formidable grandmother wasn't in the wing. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention to Neville while the cohort of undead hovered in the walkway.

"Harry!" Neville called hoarsely as he lurched out of bed and stumbled toward him. "Look out behind you!"

Harry caught Neville as he fell against him.

"It's all right, mate. They're with me," Harry said, pushing Neville gently back to his bed. Seeing his dubious face, he continued: "Seriously. They aren't going to hurt anyone."

Neville was looking around him, agape and shaking.

The only other inhabitant in the room was behind a curtain and they were speaking in concerned whispers, unaware of the intrusion.

Harry sat down next to Neville, bouncing him a bit unintentionally, and said quietly... "They've been following me everywhere since last night. Don't know how to shake them... but they did help us stop the Death Eaters."

Neville tore his gaze from the ghoulish assembly and looked at Harry incredulously, starting to visibly calm down.

"How...?"

"I have no idea," Harry grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. "So you're doing all right?"

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey said I was free to go, but Gran insisted I stay the night," Neville said with a shrug. "She was more fussed about my injury than she wanted to let on, but Madam Pomfrey sorted me out right away."

"How's Bill doing?" Harry asked, looking over in the corner where a screen hid a bed from view.

"I heard them say that his wounds would never fully heal because they are cursed. That Death Eater that did it to him, Fernir, he's a werewolf... and even though it isn't the full moon, he was partially transformed. Lupin didn't think Bill would be full on werewolf, but that he might have some wolfish traits," Neville confided.

"Ugh. I guess that's better than being turned fully or dying, but still..." Harry left off not knowing how to finish the thought.

"Has Professor Dumbledore been in here?" he asked, partially to change the subject.