Haunted by her second year and now with a murderer on the loose, Gwenevere Everill finds herself facing more battles that she does not think she can win.
Tormented by dementors and struggling under the impact of her new studies, will Gwen be able t...
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Madame Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry on the Hospital Wing for the whole weekend, to which Harry didn't argue. Gwen, Ron and Hermione stayed by his bedside the whole time, save for nights, taking it in turns to get food from the Great Hall, when several people came in, including Hagrid who dropped off a bunch of flowers that looked like cabbages, and Ginny who, blushing bright red, brought Harry a get well soon card that she had made herself that sang when he opened it.
Harry kept the bag of his broken Nimbus Two Thousand beside him. It was beyond repair, everyone knew that, and nobody tried to take it from him. Gwen understood why. It was his pride and joy. She'd seen his face when he found out what had happened to it, and she knew she'd probably have had the same reaction if it had been her broom.
The Gryffindor team revisited on Sunday morning, this time joined by Oliver Wood, who, hollowly, told Harry he did not blame him at all. Despite Wood's being distraught at their loss, it was clear he truly didn't blame Harry and that he was glad he was OK.
Nothing anyone said or did seemed to bring Harry's spirits up. It was Sunday evening when Ron and Hermione had gone down to dinner when Gwen and Harry were alone. Gwen was sitting at the table beside Harry's bed, completing the werewolf essay that had been set by Snape, when Harry finally spoke.
'Gwen. I saw the Grim in the stands. Right before I fell.'
Gwen's quill suddenly stopped. A spot of ink dripped onto her parchment. She looked at Harry. His face was grim. Gwen would be lying if she said the thought hadn't been troubling her. She couldn't explain why there was a dog in the Quidditch stands, and she couldn't explain why it had been watching Harry. She'd mulled over the thought of the Grim, but hadn't wanted to believe it. She'd convinced herself that she'd made it up. She knew if she said anything to Ron he'd panic, and Hermione would just scoff. But now, Harry was saying he had also seen it.
'Me too,' she said finally.
The relief washed over Harry's expression. He had clearly had a similar thought process to her.
'Why would we have seen it?'
Gwen inhaled. 'I don't know. I didn't... I didn't really want to believe it.'
They fell into silence. It was a relief knowing they'd both seen the same thing, but now they were struck with how ominous it was. Neither of them could understand what that meant for them. Neither of them knew what the consequence would be.
'I heard my mum, too,' Harry said suddenly.
Gwen stared at him. 'What?'
'I heard my mum. The night she died. The Dementors...' he shuddered. Gwen reached out to take his hand.
'Harry, we'll get through this. The Dementors are only here until Sirius Black's caught. That's going to be soon, I'm sure. He's had one close call, right?'
