Chapter One Hundred One

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Kefira was in such a state of shock that she found herself afraid to open her eyes, at the risk of seeing another injured body or worse a dead one. However, every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the image of a dead Dumbledore. No matter how many times she emptied her stomach, she still felt sick and she meant what she said when she claimed that she wanted to go home. Neville held onto her as tight as he could without hurting her and it meant the world to her to have him at her side during such a dark time, but at the same time, she still wanted to be home, surrounded by her family. Whenever she was upset growing up, having her parents and her sisters around was her go-to comfort zone and she needed that.

The hype of biting a werewolf had quickly worn off and she found herself worried about the repercussions of her actions, something she honestly never thought twice of in most situations. Most of the students, even if they weren't involved in the battle had found their way out of the dorms and common rooms once it was cleared that the area was safe. However, the news of Dumbledore's death had spread like wildfire and as Kefira made her way through the corridors on her way to the Hospital Wing, she found herself surrounded by the noises of sobbing and shouts of fear.

Too many feared that the Death Eaters would return to the castle to finish them all off and with Dumbledore gone, they all felt like Hogwarts was no longer safe. Kefira had to shut her eyes as Neville guided her along all the way to see Madam Pomfrey. A severe headache was getting worse by the second, but she wasn't sure if it was from the hit or a mixture of the night's events taking the toll on her mentally. 

All the while, Neville kept asking her if she was alright and as sweet as it was, she wanted him to stop, mainly because she didn't want to answer with the truth. She didn't want to tell him that she was far from alright because that wouldn't make the situation any better. It would just keep making it worse in her head. Already she was going back and forth in her head about Professor Snape and how foolish she was to ever think there was any sort of good in him. She didn't care if he had somehow saved her from the attack of the werewolf, it didn't matter, he was a foul person and she would never make the mistake to place her trust in someone like him ever again.

Not to mention, the haunted look on Draco's face as he was being pulled away, it was slowly making her go mental. Draco was a jerk, a git, and a bully, but in those moments as he was being forced down the corridor, he looked terrified and just plain remorseful. Once again, it was clear that children had been stuck in an adult's game and expected to walk away with absolutely no negative side effects. Perhaps that was why Draco looked nearly half-dead throughout the term because he was dying on the inside and afraid to call out to anyone.

Kefira remembered that she tried to reach out and get help for him, but if he was fighting it, there was honestly nothing anyone could do. She remembered that McGonagall was going to bring it up with the Head of his House, and of course, it just had to be Professor Snape. Which meant that Draco stood no chance at getting help when the forces of nature were working against him. All the thoughts made Kefira's head spin and even Madam Pomfrey's excellent sense of healing couldn't stop the thoughts that were taking over. 

The only thing that Kefira could do to actually get a moments peace was sleep, but she wasn't even sure if she could bring herself to do that. However, Neville wanted her to try, even with all the commotion inside the Hospital Wing as members of the Order and students were going in and out to have Madam Pomfrey assist them. But when it was announced to Pomfrey that Dumbledore was dead, the woman was practically in a worse shape compared to those seeking her help. It was a mess and Kefira couldn't bring herself to do anything but stare off blankly.

People were crying around her, Neville was healing beside her, the talk of death and injuries were flooding the room. The talk of werewolf scratches and it seemed every time that Kefira blinked there was a new person showing up in the Hospital Wing. 

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