chapter forty-three;

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chapter forty-three;

chapter forty-three;

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11TH OCTOBER 1995

HARRY RELEASED A SIGH, running his fingers through his thick hair. He walked towards the dorm where he would spend the night nearly alone this time.

He didn't realise they were at that age where you either sleep with your girlfriend—or boyfriend—or dare one another to camp at the edge of the forbidden forest.

( Hermione was probably still shouting at Ron for doing the latter of those. )

Neither of the choices were his thing, not at the moment at least. He just wanted to lay down on his bed and pray he would get enough hours of sleep before he'd get a nightmare.

Harry closed the door behind him, pausing instantly at the sound of ragged breathing.

He moved to grab his wand from his robes, narrowing his eyes briefly before his mind started to register whose breathing that was.

"Athena?" Harry's heart stopped abruptly at the sight of her.

She was on the floor next to his bed, holding onto her stomach tightly. Her entire outfit was stained with dark red, her face covered in blood and he wasn't entirely sure if it was from someone else or her own. She looked like she could barely move an inch, so he had no idea how she got to him.

Harry hurried to her side, instinctively collapsing on his knees to touch her wound as if it that was going to stop her from bleeding out.

There were deep, gushing cuts that draw blood from—mostly the centre of her body. Purple-ish bruises covered her skin, one visibly on her cheekbones and the hand that was holding onto her stomach tightly.

She was sweating heavily from her temples down to her shoulders.

"Thea," he muttered, trying hard not to panic too much. His brain stopped at the sight of her and he fought to make it work properly. "Hey, Athena. Stay awake, come on."

She mumbled something he couldn't understand, but it sounded like a string of curses.

A thought came into his mind.

He didn't know how to heal her. He didn't know any spells that could possibly work on the wounds she clearly had. Or the—what was that on her shoulder? Poison?

Bringing her to the hospital wing wouldn't help, by the time he brought her there she could be dead already. And how was he supposed to explain her state to Madame Promprey? He didn't even know what happened to her.

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