Vox Corpis [Harmione]

Chapter 62

They returned to the school much as they had left it, Harry and Hermione as Knight and Sagehunter for the greater speed it gave them when covering ground, Ron on his new Cleansweep with the invisibility cloak balled up under one elbow. They'd all agreed it would be pretty pointless for Ron to cover up on the way back. In the company of a jaguar and lioness, a wizard on a broom (particularly in the vicinity of a magical school) would be the less conspicuous sight for a passerby to notice of the trio. It seemed ludicrous for him to try and hide under the cloak.

It seemed to take an unbearably long time, since Knight and Sagehunter had barely had a chance to catch their breaths after their initial race then their ensuing tussle before they were asked to run again, but they were at last coming upon landmarks they knew with great familiarity. Then it was caution that slowed their pace.

They ducked into the cover of the forest as soon as they possibly could and stuck to the trees, avoiding open areas and roads leading to the great castle. The senses possessed by Knight and Sagehunter aided in their undetected approach to the school.

As they crept close to the tree line, knowing they might have to discuss and formulate a plan of action, Knight and Sagehunter returned their forms to Harry and Hermione. Together, the three friends crouched to avoid being spotted by the enemy and took in the scene before them. They could see that the explosion they had heard from afar had effectively deprived Hogwarts of its hospital wing. Hermione clutched Harry's arm tightly when they saw the rubble that stood where once the hospital wing jutted from the castle proper. The pinch of her fingers on his bicep said all that he was thinking. 'Aberforth, Kimmy, Pomfrey'. Only as an afterthought did the fate of Draco Malfoy, lying witlessly in a bed of his own inside the hospital wing, flit through his mind.

But there was no time to worry about those that might very well already lay dead amid the stone and debris of the hospital wing. There were people still alive that demanded Harry's attention, though from the looks of things they might not stay that way for long.

The area in front of the main entrance to Hogwarts was full of people. The great doors of the castle were shut and the enormous portcullis down, but that served little purpose considering the hole blown in both that had granted the attackers access to the school. It looked as though the wood and iron had been little more than paper that a giant fist had punched through.

Students and teachers alike were gathered on the grounds, held in a cluster like sheep surrounded by a circle of wolves. Black wolves, Death Eaters in coal-colored robes with skull-like masks, who paced a bloodthirsty noose around the survivors of the initial raid. There should be more than those who were pressed together in a knot of fear, Harry noted with cold certainty. Were any of them just missing, or were all unaccounted for individuals dead? Harry surveyed the scene, touching the jaguar to better see the situation that lay before them.

The first to draw Harry's eyes amid the captives were those that were no longer standing. Lavender Brown was on her knees, crying as she clung to a limp body sprawled partially over her lap. From her tears, it could only be Oliver. Harry wondered if the elder Gryffindor had tried to do something bold and fatal, like protect Lavender in a display of gallantry. If he had, he'd managed only to pay for it with his life.

McGonagall was crouched down, shielding a waif of a student (Merlin, had Harry ever been that small?) with her arms while trying to tend to her injuries at the same time. The little first-year was bleeding from the head and seemed on the verge of falling at any moment. Ginny was among the prisoners, she was hard to miss with her red hair. She was hurt. Harry couldn't see for certain how badly, but she was holding her right hand up to her chest, cradling it. From where they stood, it was not the color it should have been. Not flesh-toned but black and red. She was hunched over, whether from internal injury or just the agony in her arm he couldn't say. Whichever was the case, Ginny had not let the pain drop her. She was standing as best she could, never taking her eyes from the human jackals circling the huddled survivors.